Halo: Dark Storm Rising
by Don113
Summary: This is a crossover of Halo and Star Wars, taking place post-Halo 3 and during the early years of the Galactic Civil War. The UNSC has never been stronger since it's founding, but darkness looms on the horizon as the Empire begins preparations to invade.
1. Chapter 1

**Halo: Dark Storm Rising**

**I-Day minus 32**

_Asylum is formally granted to all Jedi and others who wish to take refuge in the United Nations of Earth and Her Colonies._

**-UN response to Order 66**

UN Secretary-General Alice Dennison wasn't the type to relish a political victory, even one as important as this one. Having won reelection, Dennison was back in an office that carried many responsibilities along with the prestige that came with it. And, truth be told, she was presiding in an era where things were not as sure as they were before, an era where things could get dangerous very fast.

The rise of the Empire had been a stunning and unforeseen event, an even that had ended the friendship of two close allies and added a new rival to the United Nations of Earth and her Colonies. Amidst the chaos, UNSC forces were ordered to disengage and return to their respective bases. Repeated requests by the new Imperial administration for the UN delegation to return to the Senate were denied. Once the true nature of Order 66 had emerged, the Sol System was shocked. Jedi trying to escape the massacre at their temple were allowed to board UNSC military transports and UN diplomatic shuttles. More than a few clone troopers made their frustrations clear by shooting warning shots at the transports, which were ignored. In all, several thousand Jedi had been killed. But many more had gone into hiding, and a good chunk had found refuge in the Colonies. That last fact was irritating to the Empire, which had made its intentions clear: all Jedi were now considered war criminals and would be prosecuted accordingly. Tensions had grown in the last three years, and there was little doubt as to where they would lead.

Dennison had replied that there was little to no proof that the Jedi had done such a thing—the so-called assassination attempt on the Supreme Chancellor—now the Emperor—was mired in mystery and confusion. Furthermore, her government had the right to give asylum to any individual or group, and they would be given the same protections as UN citizens.

The Jedi were eternally grateful. The Jedi who made it to the Colonies set up an enclave on Harvest, a major colony world and military base. There, they solved local crime and helped the local authorities immensely; their popularity soared.

The Empire was less than pleased. Attempts to "arrest" the Jedi in the Colonies were rebuffed by the UNSC, and Imperial ships often tested the UNSC Navy's capability to defend its own territory by probing with small ships. Such an incident had turned deadly, which was why Dennison had called a conference with her cabinet.

"Laura, what do we know?" she asked the Secretary of Defense.

"About 0900, military time," SecDef began, "an Imperial cruiser chasing a civilian shuttle attempted to follow that shuttle into UN space. Patrol Group Harvest moved to intercept the cruiser, and the group's CO attempted to contact the Imperial vessel. The cruiser responded by opening fire. Two cutters were destroyed, but the main patrol ship—a Halcyon-Class Cruiser, the _Red Sunrise_—drove off the cruiser. We've lost twenty-eight sailors. Seventy were wounded."

"The shuttle?"

"The passengers were all Jedi."

"Which explains the chase. Admiral Stanley, what does ONI know?"

The head of ONI answered: "Not much, ma'am. We do know that the Empire has gone on alert, but to what extent is unknown. Imperial Navy chatter suggests the cruiser's skipper disobeyed orders, but what order he violated is not known at this time."

"What do you know?" SecState asked irritably. "The last thing we need is to retaliate militarily. This is a time when we should be trying to strengthen ties with the Empire."

"It was my understanding that this administration does not recognize the Empire as a legal entity," Stanley said smoothly. The British pronunciation added more fire to the retort, as only the British can do.

"We don't, but that doesn't mean we should go to war given the smallest excuse."

"Who's talking about war?" said the head of the UNSC. The room fell silent at once. Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood was an Insurrection War, a Covenant War and Clone War veteran, and his opinion was almost never overruled. Some whispered that he still ran the government as he did during the height of the Covenant War. "If need be, our forces can take on the Empire with a reasonable chance of success, but I don't want to go to war over something like this. That said, this incident warrants putting our forces at a higher readiness."

"That's a provocation," SecState said.

"That's a measured response, Chuck," Hood answered. "We overreact, and we risk war. We do nothing, and it encourages the Empire to take it one step further. Nearly thirty sailors are dead. Seventy are wounded."

Dennison looked at Hood. "What's our best option?"

"Rebuild the Third Fleet and station them at Harvest," Hood said, ignoring SecState's objections. Third Fleet, dissolved after the Clone Wars, had been responsible for guarding the Outer Colonies alongside Fourth Fleet, which was still active. "It's small enough that the Empire won't fear an invasion, but large enough to make them think twice about making any more incursions."

"Who will you put in command?"

"Admiral Borodin. He's a good officer."

"Borodin's track record suggests that he's overly aggressive," SecState said. "Are you sure you want to put such a man in command of such a tricky situation?"

"He's not stupid," Hood answered.

"That may be," said Dennison, "but I agree with Chuck. Borodin can be too aggressive. That served him well during war time, but this isn't war. Not yet. Put Admiral Laval in command." Admiral Pierre Laval was known for keeping a cool head in even the hottest situations.

"Yes ma'am. May I suggest transferring Admiral Borodin to Third Fleet? In an advisory capacity, of course."

"Do it. If things get hot, Borodin will take command."

"Yes ma'am."

Dennison leaned back in her seat. "Let's keep cool heads, people. I don't want to take the Colonies into another war."

000

_It cannot be denied that, despite their so-called inferior weaponry, the UNSC displays an astonishing military capability matched only by the Empire. While their military is smaller than ours, they style their tactics and strategies on their smaller size, making abundant use of shock troopers that use a daring orbital drop. While their Army has begun increasing its offensive capabilities, there is no doubt that the Marine Corps is the cutting edge of the UNSC. Their performance regarding the Covenant War is subject to debate, but analysis proves that the UNSC had superior tacticians who were only weighed down by a lack of technology, and the war brought out the best in them. Their Navy is the strongest branch, and the fact that the UNSC's main intelligence service, the Office of Naval Intelligence, is part of the Navy, only points to the strength they possess. They must not be underestimated._

**-Imperial Intelligence memo regarding the UNSC, authored by Admiral Thrawn**

At the Imperial Navy base at Ord Mantell, Admiral Wulf Yularen stared at the still-warm body of Captain Jagi. On Lord Vader's order, Jagi had been executed for attacking UNSC forces. Yularen, being angry about the incident, had administered the blaster bolt personally. It was quite convenient, actually; he'd gotten rid of a troublesome officer, and the others under his command now knew the consequences of Jagi's actions.

Truth be told, Yularen was nervous that the UNSC would go on high alert. It would make the execution of Operation Cleanup far rougher than it had to be. The Jedi Enclave on Harvest was growing daily. Somehow, despite the tight patrols, fugitive Jedi managed to get to Harvest. Without any good sources on Harvest, Imperial Intelligence could only guess at how many Jedi were on Harvest, but conservative estimates put the number at nearly three hundred.

For the Emperor and Lord Vader, that was unacceptable. The rumors about what the Force could do to a person also frightened Yularen. If half the stories were true, the Jedi could convince the UN to go to war against the Empire.

Still weakened after the Clone Wars, the Empire wasn't as strong as people thought. A war between the Empire and the UN could go either way. But the Empire had a larger military, and most of its current troops were veterans. Yularen firmly believed that the Empire could win a war…but only if two key UN systems were conquered thoroughly. One was Harvest, the location of the Jedi Enclave and a major UNSC base. The other was the Sol System; the Earth itself. That operation would be the costliest; the UN capital planet was heavily protected by a large armada of the UNSC Navy's most modern warships and extremely powerful, long range orbital guns. But Yularen knew the Empire had the might to succeed.

There were two operations that had been planned: Cleanup and Spear. Cleanup would be the operation regarding Harvest: the neutralization of its UNSC guardians and the execution of all its Jedi citizens. Spear would be the massive attack on Earth, designed to neutralize the UN leadership and keep the UNSC's best units too busy to interfere with Operation Cleanup. Both operations were part of Operation Iron Fist. If all went well, the UN would be quickly defeated, paving the way for additional Imperial troops to flood into the Colonies and conquer them.

But now, Captain Jagi's actions had thrown the whole thing into doubt. The success of the operation entailed being able to send a powerful fleet to Earth, a fleet that could not pause to fight anything until they reached Earth. Before that fleet could be sent, Harvest had to be swiftly and thoroughly conquered. Yularen knew how the UNSC would respond to Jagi's mistake; they would send a fleet to Harvest. It would make Operation Cleanup much more complicated.

"Lord Vader," Yularen said to the tall dark figure next to him. "I was sure before, but now I have doubts about our operation. Should we go forward?"

"The Emperor has a thorn in his side," Vader rumbled. "That thorn is Harvest. It must be destroyed utterly, along with its Jedi protectors, before it becomes too powerful for us to assault. If you wish for more ships and materiel, you will have it. But do not fail me."

"As the Emperor wills, Lord Vader," Yularen replied. There would be no more debate. The operation would go forward as planned.

000

**I-Day minus 30**

Commander Peng Xi was a typical Prowler commander. Some in the Navy said his attitude was akin to cowardice. Xi called it caution. Prowlers weren't equipped for heavy combat anyway, armed only with pulse lasers. Mines were an optional addition, but one that most Prowler crews didn't use; there was no way around the Cherenkov radiation emitted by the nuclear mines, a radiation emitted every time a ship entered or exited slipspace. As such, the _Cornelia_ carried no mines. Her mission was to observe.

The Imperial Navy base at Ord Mantell was large. It was once a major Republic Navy base before the rise of the Empire, when all Republic assets became Imperial. And right now, it was bustling with more activity than Xi had seen since the Clone Wars. Imperial ships of every type, from the Venator-Class cruiser—the staple of the Republic Navy, and now the Imperial Navy—the new Imperator-Class Star Destroyer, a large monster vessel, all the way down to the new Tartan corvettes. There were several Imperators, along with troop transports and vehicle transports. It was an assault fleet. Of that Xi was certain. But the target could be any of a hundred worlds. The galaxy hadn't settled down completely since the end of the Clone Wars, and the Empire was still cleaning house. Jabiim was one such trouble spot. It was possible that the Empire was going all out on the Jabiimi resistance; their recent actions were conservatively called "overkill". That explained the number of ships.

But Xi was still bothered by the _types_ of ship. Star Destroyers and Star Cruisers were usually used to attack a heavily fortified enemy, or a powerful navy. The Jabiimites were scattered; their resistance consisted of guerrilla warfare. They had no such navy or fortifications. At least, no fortifications strong enough to warrant the use of nearly two hundred capital ships. This activity was suspicious, to say the least. If this was preparation for an assault on the Colonies, Xi wanted to make sure that the UNSC was ready.

00000


	2. Chapter 2

**I-Day minus 29**

Admiral Marcus Stanley had enough on his plate as head of ONI. Hard enough to handle the large organization, Stanley's limits were still strained by the constant inquiries of the civilian Senators. The career Navy officer yearned for the days when Earth was still under emergency military rule, when ONI had more, asked for, and got as much latitude as they very well pleased. But now the Senators were eager to put a leash on ONI, and Stanley was aging day by day fending them off. He examined his face in the mirror on his office door.

"Hard to believe I'm only fifty-six," he said. "I look like a bloody corpse."

"I think you look fine, sir," said Petty Officer Lynn Bishop, Stanley's secretary.

"You're too kind, Petty Officer," Stanley said. "What's new today?"

"Priority message from Captain Iglesias," she replied. Iglesias was the head of ONI's Prowler Corps.

Stanley skimmed through it. What he read was enough to go to Sydney.

000

"Commander Xi's report suggests that the Empire is planning a large-scale assault on a major enemy," Stanley said, beginning his conclusion. "It is his opinion, as is mine, that the major enemy in this case happens to be us."

"Thank you, Admiral Stanley," Fleet Admiral Hood said. He turned to SecGen Dennison. "Ma'am, this report is troubling. It is my strongest suggestion that we go to DEFCON Two." One of five levels of military readiness, DEFCON 2 was a state of military readiness just below maximum readiness, which was DEFCON 1.

"The Empire could be preparing to assault Jabiim," SecState said. "As Commander Xi himself stated, that's a likely possibility."

Hood marveled at one of the few intelligent things that Charles Maynard had said during his career as Secretary of State before continuing. "Commander Xi also said that the types of ships and the number of ships did not correspond to the Empire's standard response to guerrilla warfare. They either send in commandos or they glass the planet. They're definitely planning an assault on a major military target."

"We can't ignore that possibility," said Laura Keating, the Secretary of Defense. Technically Hood's boss, Keating's role was actually limited to squeezing funding out of the government's budget and other smaller roles. But Hood gave her the respect she deserved, something she appreciated. "I agree with Terry. We should go to DEFCON Two and speed up the reconstitution of Third Fleet."

"Considering the situation," Hood said, "I also want to send Fourth Fleet to Harvest."

"Please don't tell me that's not a provocation," SecState said. "If what you say is true, and the Empire is preparing to invade, then they'll use our buildup as an excuse for a preemptive strike. And there goes our chance to ask the Union or the Covenant for help. Neither of them will help if they believe we started a war."

"Are you seriously considering asking the Unis for help?" asked an incensed commander of the Army. General Armand D'Souza was a career Army officer who cared little for the Union of Independent Colonies, a series of systems that had broken away from the UN years before. His outburst was supported by vigorous nods from General Ben Halsey, the head of the Marine Corp, and General Sarah Walters, the head of the Air Force.

"Who else do we have?" Maynard asked reasonably. "If the Empire is planning an assault, we'll need their help. Our military is downsized."

"Who do we have to blame for that?"

"Enough," Dennison said. "Rebuild Third Fleet ASAP and send Fourth Fleet to Madrigal. We're at DEFCON Two, people. Dismissed."

000

Bren Starr, Imperial Intelligence officer, was wary. Harvest was home to hundreds of Jedi. Jedi that had the gall to walk openly in the streets. Starr suppressed his rage. _All things in good time_, he told himself. His job wasn't to rage at the injustice of living Jedi. His job was to find out what the UNSC defenses on Harvest were.

The security here was unusually good, he'd noticed at the onset. Yesterday, he'd casually tried approaching nearby Fort Strauss, he'd been rebuffed by a gentle but stern Marine guard who said, "This area is restricted, sir. Please go about your business." The same went for nearly every military base on the planet. But there were things that the tough security couldn't hide. Like the increase in activity at each base, the bars and cafes where soldiers grumbled at having their leave unexpectedly cut short, the increase of military uniforms on the street, increase in military transport traffic.

Then there was the Jedi Enclave. It was open to the public, but Starr couldn't risk going in and having the Jedi detect his true purpose, so he avoided that area like it was covered in plague. But the Jedi he saw on the street also noticed the activity with a frown. Of course they would notice it, Starr realized. They were mind-readers, after all.

What Starr didn't realize was that he was being watched as well. Across the street, Agent Michelle Lee and Special Agent Tom McGregor of the Federal Security Bureau discreetly observed their target. So far he'd done nothing suspicious, other than visit several military bases. But since the Colonies were at DEFCON 2, it didn't hurt to be too cautious.

"And there he goes, back into the hotel," Lee said. "If he is an Imp spook, how does he contact home?"

"That's a very handsome question, probie," McGregor replied. "I'm sure our tech weenies can figure it out. If he's innocent, I'd call this the best op we've ever done."

"It's boring," Lee said.

"It's awesome," McGregor insisted. "Don't you know there's a beach less than two miles away? Nearly every chick here is of Scandinavian descent. I've always wanted to be mobbed by hot Swedish women in bikinis."

"Your mind runs the gamut from X to triple X."

McGregor's smile turned impish. "Maybe you could get a job as a maid in the hotel where our friend is staying. You can observe him closer that way."

"I'm not sure whether your suggestion is good or bad," Lee said. "Maybe you just want to see me in a maid's outfit."

"Maybe."

Across the street, two FSB agents disguised as off-duty Marines jabbered loudly outside the hotel's entrance and watched Starr leaving a few hours later. Another FSB agent in civilian clothing followed the man at a discreet distance. There was no way that they'd let him out of their sights.

000

**I-Day minus 24**

"Our agent reports that the UNSC is increasing activity on Harvest," Director of Imperial Intelligence Armand Isard said.

"Understandable, given recent events," Admiral Yularen said. "But what kind of preparations? On what scale?"

"He can't find out without risk of blowing his cover," Isard replied. "That is something I cannot risk."

"Damn!" Yularen raged. "I need to know as much as I can before I start a war."

"I understand your frustrations, but something is better than nothing," Isard said.

"Not in this case. We don't know where their fleets are. We don't know what readiness their military is operating at. We don't know what the defenses are like on Harvest."

"We know where their bases are," Isard countered. "We have the firepower to take on their fleets. Their readiness is likely low, even given the recent incident. And we have our secret weapon."

"The Geonosian's Ultimate Weapon?" The Ultimate Weapon, as the Geonosians had called it, was a massive space station containing a large super laser capable of destroying a planet. "I heard that it has flaws."

"The main weapons systems work," Isard said. "If we can't have Harvest, they can't either."

"They will respond with NOVA bombs," Yularen warned. Showcased only once in the Clone Wars, the NOVA was a powerful nuclear weapon capable of destroying an entire fleet or an opposing armada. Its single use in the Clone Wars was against a CIS armada preparing to strike Coruscant. The detonation wiped out all five hundred ships, and caused destruction of cataclysmic proportions on the nearby planet. It had forced the CIS to postpone the invasion of Coruscant for quite some time…and provided propaganda fuel for anti-war advocates.

"Perhaps," Isard agreed. "But the NOVA is a last-stand weapon, as is the super laser. We would be unlikely to use it if Harvest falls quickly."

"Really? It would be nice to have that option. Tell me, is the weapon ready?"

Isard looked uncomfortable. "No."

"How long will it take for it to be ready?"

"Almost a year."

Yularen shook his head. "Operation Iron Fist begins in less than a month. The super laser is out of the question."

"Hmph."

"Will your commandos do their job?" Yularen asked.

"Oh yes," Isard said, smiling again.

000

Captain Gerald Caldwell admired his new steed. The M811A Kodiak Main Battle Tank looked like a M808C Scorpion tank on steroids. Armed with a 120mm High Velocity cannon, it packed more firepower than the 90mm M808B and the 105mm M808C, and had thicker armor than the Scorpion. The Kodiak needed three soldiers to operate it: a gunner, a driver and a commander. This set it at a slight disadvantage to the two-man Scorpion, but the other features put it ahead of the M808. The best part—for Caldwell, at least—was that the Kodiak was currently being used only by the UNSC Army. The Marine Corps was transitioning to the Kodiak, but only slowly; they still used the M808C. For now, the presence of the Kodiak meant that the Army was in town.

"Target: Imp walker, range two hundred," the gunner announced.

"Fire!" Caldwell said.

"Firing!"

The blast of the 120mm cannon was satisfyingly loud. The HEAT round crossed the distance in the blink of an eye and hit the decommissioned All-Terrain-Tactical-Enforcer head on. The walker exploded, showering bits of debris everywhere. Old walkers and other vehicles abandoned by the Grand Army of the Republic on various worlds had been bought discreetly by the UNSC for target practice and to evaluate how best to take one on.

"Kill," the gunner announced.

"Endex," said Caldwell, ending the exercise. Against the Kodiak, the slow-moving AT-TE had no chance at all. The real threat to the Kodiak would be the 2-M Imperial Fighter Tank, a modified version of the GAR's TX-130T. Fast and nimble, the 2-M was faster than UNSC tanks and could move quickly across rough terrain. It would have to work at a kill, however. The Kodiak's armor was designed especially against plasma and lasers.

Colonel Nathan Green nodded appreciatively as Caldwell approached on foot. "Nice shooting, Gerry. You performed at a hundred and ten percent as always."

"I'll perform better next time, sir."

Green smiled. "I'm sure you will."

"Rumor has it that the Imps are getting' a little too frisky."

Green's smile faded. "Maybe. The Guard's still pissed."

"Who can blame them? They lost…what, thirty guys?" Caldwell looked up at the sky. Far above, what looked like stars in the day sky were actually ships. "But you haven't answered my question, sir."

Green looked directly at Caldwell. "Well, don't take my word for it, but I heard that a spook prowler spotted the Imps putting together an assault force. Sol is sending Fourth Fleet to Madrigal and the Navy's rebuilding Third Fleet." An aide ran up, spoke briefly in Green's ear, and ran off. Green's face turned ugly for a split second.

"What?" Caldwell asked.

"Alert the troops. We're at DEFCON Two."

000

Admiral Vasily Borodin and Admiral Pierre Laval examined their flagship from the docks surrounding Altair IV. The Altair system was a major UNSC Navy base, a middle point between the Inner and Outer Colonies. Altair III had vast amounts of raw material for ship-building, and housed an immense shipyard maintained by the Reyes-McLees company. The system was also the home base for the Fourth Fleet, and now it was giving birth back to the Third Fleet.

Third Fleet's flagship was the Iowa-Class battleship _California_. Only recently commissioned, _California_ was shiny and new, her hull bereft of battle scars and the tell-tale signs of hastily-made repairs. The sad part was that she would be the final battleship; cutbacks had culminated in the scrapping of the Iowa Project. "She is beautiful, _non_?" Laval asked.

"_Da_," Borodin agreed. "But the fleet is not ready. We need at least three more weeks—optimistically—to be ready for combat."

"You think it will come to that?" Laval asked.

"Why else would we be at DEFCON Two?" Borodin replied. "The arrow is set in the string."

"But it is not drawn. We should be careful."

"That is why you are here, yes? To keep my famous aggressiveness in check?"

Laval smiled slightly. "_Interessant_. I thought you were here to give me a push in case I become too cautious."

Borodin laughed. "We will complement each other well, Pierre."

"_Oui_." After a short pause, Laval asked, "You think there is a chance that this will cool down?"

"_Nyet_, Pierre. This, I fear, is the beginning of a terrible conflict."

000

**I-Day minus 14**

Special Agent Tom McGregor looked through the scope. Their target was fiddling with something in his room, but they couldn't tell what it was. But now, they had a name.

"What are you doing, Mister Starr?" McGregor wondered aloud.

"Maybe if you ask him, he'll tell you," Agent Michelle Lee said.

"Why don't you ask him, probie? If you put on that maid's outfit and ask him real nice, I'm sure he'll tell you."

"Bite me, McPerv." She looked through the scope herself. "What _is_ he doing?"

"Question of the month," said Supervisory Special Agent Leonard Knight. He was the team leader. "You want to know who he is?"

"It would be nice, Boss," McGregor said.

"Lieutenant Brenn Starr, Imperial Intelligence. He's a rookie."

"Explains why we found him so easily."

"But it doesn't explain why he's here," Knight replied.

"Recon?" McGregor speculated. "Preparing the groundwork for an invasion?"

"Why would you think that?" Lee asked.

"We're not at DEFCON Two for giggles, probie."

Lee looked doubtful. "Would the Empire try to attack a major UNSC base?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?"

"Colorful language aside, McGregor's right," Knight said. "But we don't have probable cause to arrest him."

"We could take him in for questioning," McGregor suggested. "He _is_ acting suspiciously."

"We don't want to spook the spook," Knight said. "I want him caught red-handed."

"We could bait him," Lee said. "Tell the guards at Fort Strauss to relax a bit, let him get a good look, and see if he tries to contact anyone."

"That's not a good idea," McGregor said.

"No, it's a great one," Knight countered. "I'll talk to General Ryan. He'll agree with it."

"Boss," McGregor said, "what if we lose him and he gives away vital info?"

"Then I'll make you wear a maid's outfit."

"Ah. Then I'll make sure we don't lose him."

"I thought so."

000

**I-Day minus 12**

The commander of the ONI prowler was less than pleased to be dragged into an FSB operation, but he was pragmatic. However, he declined to give his name—and that of his ship—to Knight's team. Knight decided he could live with that. Right now, he had Lee watching Starr's room from across the street. McGregor was with him. On the roof and in the lobby, the FSB's Tactical Response Squad (TRS), the FSB version of SWAT, were blocking every exit they could think of.

"OK, Mister Prowler Skipper," Knight whispered into his headset. "Talk to me."

_"He's sending a message, alright. We're intercepting it. We've identified the ship he was sending it to. Coruscant-registered freighter. Want us to vector in some Guard ships for intercept?"_

"Negative. Purge Starr's communiqué of classified intel and send it on to the freighter. I don't want the Imps to know that their agent's been compromised."

_"Copy. I hope you know what you're doing."_

"OK. Knight to all teams: take him!"

Starr was just putting away his communications gear when a flash-bang grenade shattered the glass of his window and exploded. The intense light and sound disoriented him, but he was trained enough to try and ignore the pain. He tried to get to his weapon, but the few seconds of disorientation were enough for the TRS team and for Knight and McGregor. One TRS man scooped up Starr's blaster before the man could reach it, and before the Imperial agent knew it he was on his face, hands cuffed behind his back, with several weapons aimed at him.

"Suspect in custody," Knight announced. "Good job, everyone. McGregor, read him his rights."

"Sure thing. Brenn Starr, you are under arrest for espionage. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one shall be provided for you. Anything you say can be used as evidence in a court of law. You may waive these rights if you wish. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

"I—have nothing to say," Starr managed to say. He was still in shock, but not because of the flash-bang. He was stunned that he'd been found out so easily.

Knight bent down to look at Starr. "You'll want to cooperate with us, Lieutenant Starr. We have enough evidence to put you in lockup forever. And you don't want to know what inmates do to spies."

"I have nothing to say."

000

**I-Day minus 8**

"Are you an Imperial agent?" Knight asked in an FSB interrogation room.

"I have nothing to say."

"Why did you repeatedly visit military bases on Harvest?"

"I have nothing to say."

"Really?" McGregor said. "You'll have loads to say when you see this." On a nearby screen, pictures of Starr on several locations scrolled across. Then came pictures of his equipment, then the picture of the freighter. Then the screen showed the message that Starr had sent, unaltered. "Still have nothing to say?"

"We will bury you," Knight said. "Unless you cooperate."

"I have nothing to say."

McGregor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Y'know Boss, they say that Jedi can read minds. Isn't the Enclave less than ten minutes away?"

"Why, so it is," Knight said. "Maybe I'll ask one of them to help us. Do you like Jedi, Mister Starr?"

That was it for the Imperial agent. "DON'T YOU DARE PUT THOSE MURDERING SCUM IN THIS ROOM!!!" he shouted.

"Don't like Jedi, do you?"

"They killed my brother! For no reason!"

"What was your brother doing?" Knight asked.

"His job! He was dealing with Jabiimi rebels when a Jedi that was helping them killed him! He was trying to negotiate!"

"Where was he operating?" Knight asked.

"Nova City."

"You mean this Nova City?" Knight called up a video on the screen. Imperial troops were gunning down screaming civilians in a burning section of city. They systematically cornered and killed all they could find before disappearing. "That was security footage from a police droid. It's not fake."

Starr was stunned. "But…that can't be…No, no! I don't believe you!"

Knight called up another video. "This is HUD footage from an Imperial Lieutenant named Heren Starr." It was a first-person view of a man slaughtering the same civilians in the previous video. "If you're wondering, we got this video from rebels who posted it on the HoloNet. It was quickly taken down by the Empire, just like the other one, but we grabbed those two. Think about that for a while."

Outside interrogation, McGregor asked, "You think he'll fall for it?"

"He may. He may not." The footage was actually of a different Imperial action on a different planet. The HUD ID was doctored. "But I'm betting he will."

"I have a feeling we're running out of time. The sooner we break him, the better."

000

**I-Day minus 6**

"Are we ready to move?" Admiral Yularen asked.

"Yes sir."

"Then commence Operation Iron Fist."

000

"What the hell?" Commander Xi leaned forward in his command chair.

"It appears that the Imperial fleet is preparing to jump, sir," said the NAV officer.

"I can see that, Lieutenant." It was obvious, really. All of the Imperial ships were maneuvering for a text-book hyperspace jump. The smaller ships attached themselves to the larger ones, and the capital ships moved into a V-formation. The larger Imperators maneuvered to the front, followed by the smaller Venator cruisers and the Victory IIs. Then, altogether, they jumped into hyperspace.

"COM, contact HIGHCOM. Tell them what happened. Helm, set course for Altair IV."

00000


	3. Chapter 3

**I-Day minus 5**

_Should we be shrinking the UNSC? It's foolish to do so, especially in this sort of political climate. I can guarantee that the Empire is building up its military. We'd be foolish to do the opposite considering the Harvest incident. We won't secure peace by lowering our guard._

**-Senator Ken Hikowa, rejecting claims that there was no need for a powerful military**

Admiral Borodin frowned. The latest intel report wasn't something trivial. The Imperial fleet that had been massing at Ord Mantell had jumped, and no one had any idea where it was going. Third Fleet still wasn't ready. Only Fourth Fleet was ready to move. A task force was en route to Harvest, under the command of Admiral Henry Paulson.

"If I am aggressive, then Paulson is reckless," Borodin said. "If the Imperial target is Harvest, they will get there before he does… and set a trap for him."

"I agree," Admiral Laval said. He was surprised at Borodin's caution, so contrary to the man's reputation. "But we can do nothing except hope that Fourth Fleet can do the job."

"And that Harvest holds out."

Harvest's defenses were much different since its pre-glassing days. After the terraforming in 2554 and the contact with the Republic in 2557, Harvest's position had become changed. It was the most accessible UN colony world to the rest of the galaxy, and a major supplier of raw material. As such, it became a target of the CIS during the Clone Wars. The UNSC responded by beefing up the planet's defenses. Aside from the many land bases, Harvest had ten orbital MAC gun platforms and a strong fleet of Colonial Guard ships, consisting of old but upgraded UNSC ships. If enemy ships did manage to get past the orbital defenses, they would then have to contend with the missile silos dotted all over the landscape, cleverly camouflaged and shielded. There were also massive flak guns and large Gauss cannons that, while nowhere near as powerful as their orbital cousins, still did damage to ships that entered atmosphere. At any given time, there were a hundred thousand Colonial Guard troops, fifty-thousand Marines and several hundred aircraft on Harvest, and recent events had added to that number. It was enough for a delaying action. The time gained would be critical to driving the Empire off of the planet. But only if that time was used wisely.

000

**I-Day minus 1**

"I was gathering intelligence for the Empire," Starr said.

"What kind of intelligence?" Knight asked.

"Anything of a military nature," Starr replied. "Troop movements, military installations, defense systems."

"And what did you get?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. Your security is admirable."

McGregor, watching from behind a mirrored glass, scratched his ears. "He's lying."

"How can you tell?" Lee asked.

"My ears itch when someone lies."

"Really?" Lee asked, her disbelief evident.

"As sure as you're wearing silk panties, probie."

"I'm not wearing silk panties, perv."

"Huh. My ears are itching like _mad_."

On the other side of the glass, Knight was also sure that Starr had lied to him. "Try again. You don't send transmissions to your bosses if you don't have anything."

Starr paused a bit before going on. "Well, despite security, you can't hide everything. I noticed more men in uniform in the city. I noted areas where I couldn't go. The Empire knows you've beefed up your defenses."

"Told ya so," McGregor said to Lee.

"He still hasn't said why he was gathering intel," Lee said.

"Obvious, probie. The Imps want to know what our defenses are like in case of a major war." His eyes wandered. "So, what color are they—ow!"

"What was all this intel for?" Knight asked, oblivious to the childish behavior in the observation area.

"I wasn't told," Starr said. "All they told me was to gather as much intelligence as possible and relay it to them as soon as I could."

"Did that seem…desperate to you?"

"Yes, it did. We usually aren't rushed unless an operation is around the corner. Rush jobs tend to get one caught. Like you caught me."

Knight's poker face revealed nothing, but Lee and McGregor suddenly forgot about what they'd been arguing about and looked at each other. Fear was in both faces. "If an operation is around the corner…" McGregor began.

"…then the Empire is coming here," Lee finished. "Soon."

"But how soon?" McGregor asked. Knight entered the room. "Boss…"

"Take Starr over to the ONI spooks," Knight said. "I want him off Harvest and on Earth before the Empire gets here."

"Where are you going?"

"To brief the commanders. We're going to be in the middle of one hell of a fight."

000

**I-Day: 0000 hrs**

Station Archimedes was one of several long-range sensor stations placed at strategic points along the UN border. It gathered data for scientific research, but its primary purpose was to monitor Imperial fleet movements. As such, when a large blip appeared on the station's main screen, Chief Petty Officer Margaret Lanning recognized the shape immediately.

"It looks like an Imp fleet," she said. "Large."

"Victors leading the way?" asked a crewman, revering to the UNSC reporting name for the Venator-Class Star Cruiser.

"Nah. Prow's too pointy. It's too big for one of their Alpha-Class (Acclamator) boats. Too big for the older Oscars (Victory II-Class Star Destroyers). Must be the new Imperator." The latest Imperial Navy acquisition had yet to receive an official reporting name, although most were already calling it the India-Class.

"Judging by the shape, there are at least twenty of the motherfuckers. Calculating the size of the anomaly to average tonnage of Imperial Navy ships…" the crewman gasped. "There's at least two hundred ships there, Chief."

"Where are they headed?"

"Epsilon Indi. Harvest."

000

**I-Day: 0034 hrs**

Admiral Wulf Yularen walked onto the bridge the moment his flagship, _Imperator_, entered the Epsilon Indi System. "Status report, Captain Mayar," he said.

"All ships have successfully entered the system, Admiral," Eliri Mayar replied. She was one of only a few female officers to command a ship in the Imperial Navy. "UNSC and UNCG forces have not responded as yet."

"What is the status of the enemy? What is his strength?"

"As suspected, no major UNSC Navy presence here. The UNCG fleet is present." She pointed to a collection of lights near Harvest that was the UN Colonial Guard Fleet, Harvest. "UNCGF Harvest is a token defensive force, made to deal with pirates and smugglers. They pose no serious threat to this task force."

She was right. Led by twenty Imperator-Class Star Destroyers, forty-eight Venator-Class Star Cruisers, and sixty Victory II-Class Star Destroyers, Imperial Task Force Saber was powerful enough to smash through the UNCG fleet with ease.

"What are your orders, sir?"

Yularen stared at the pitifully small enemy fleet. The tactical screen showed them moving into intercept position. It was touching. Despite the heavy odds against them, the UNCG fleet was still preparing to fight. The reason soon became apparent. "Identify that group of vessels."

"Civilian ships, Admiral. Hundreds of them. They must be preparing to evacuate the civilians. That means they must have had some warning."

"It doesn't matter. Move in, but hold the fleet outside of the kill-zone of their orbital guns."

"What about the freighters?" Mayar asked. "They could be carrying Jedi."

Yularen shrugged. "Jagi's actions caused irreparable harm to that operation. We will deal with what Jedi remain on Harvest."

Mayar looked at Yularen. "Won't the Jedi evacuate all of their number?"

"Unlikely. They have a strong moral sense, and the UN won't be able to evacuate all the civilians. The Jedi will leave a few knights to care for the civilians. We will deal with those."

000

General Frank Warner, UNSC Army, was the designated Commander of all UNSC and UNCG forces in the Epsilon Indi system. Before, it was supposed to have been Admiral Pierre Laval, but Laval was tied up at Altair IV, trying to rebuild Third Fleet. Now Warner had to deal with an invasion that he'd prepared for but never expected to happen.

"Commander Getz, what's your status?" Warner asked the man leading the UNCG fleet in orbit.

_"We're as ready as we can be,"_ Getz replied, _"but don't count on us holding out for more than an hour. Evacuate as many as you can in that time, sir."_

"An hour. Got it." Warner turned to the UNCG ground commander, Lt. Gen. Adam Locke. "Adam, get it done. Round up the civvies and put them on those freighters."

"An hour?" Locke replied. "Do you know how many civilians are on Harvest? We won't get them all off in time."

"Get as many as you can, especially the Jedi. I have a feeling that the Empire wants them all dead. And make sure Master Ti understands that she doesn't have a choice in the matter."

"Yes sir."

"Marge," Warner said next, addressing the UNSC Air Force commander.

"All my birds are up and ready," Lt. Gen. Margaret Vanderbilt said. "It's gonna be a long day."

"Yeah."

000

Admiral Henry Paulson was leading Task Force Four-Alpha, a detachment of the Fourth Fleet originally ordered to Madrigal in response to the Harvest incident. But word had reached him that a large Imperial force had entered the Epsilon Indi system, and TF4A was diverted to Harvest.

"Any updates?" he asked Captain Choi Tae-in.

"Other than the big-ass Imp fleet entering the system, nothing," Captain Choi replied. "We won't get there for at least thirty hours. Until then, they're on their own, sir."

"That's not good enough."

Captain Choi calmly replied, "That's all we can do, sir. The reactors on all ships are being maxed out to the limit."

Paulson was furious, but smart enough not to take it out on Choi. "What do you think that Colonial Guard fleet can do?"

Choi shook his head. "They're outnumbered and outgunned, and they haven't been trained for this sort of thing. The Imps'll blast right through them."

Paulson finally showed his anger by slamming his fist onto the arm of his command chair. He had a powerful task force, but he could do nothing but wait.

000

**I-Day: 0045 hrs**

_"We are healers and protectors of the innocent. It is our duty as Jedi to remain here and help those who cannot help themselves."_

**-Master Shaak Ti, refusing to evacuate Harvest**

General Warner took a look at the large holographic map of Harvest. "Of all the places that the Imps can land, the Elysium Fields are the best place to park their assault ships. What can we do about that?"

Colonel Green pointed to a ridge. "I suggest putting artillery and flak guns here. The geography should protect them from the assault ships' guns. The Air Force should be called into this too."

An aide interrupted: "General Warner, com transmission from the Imperial commander."

"Put him on screen two," Warner said.

An Imperial officer wearing an admiral's uniform appeared. _"Greetings. I am Admiral Wulf Yularen of the Imperial Navy. To whom am I speaking?"_

"General Frank Warner, UNSC Army. I'm in command here."

_"Are you ready to hear surrender terms?"_

Warner didn't even blink. "No. I have standing orders to keep this planet in UNSC hands, and I mean to do just that."

_"Please consider for a moment. My forces far outnumber yours."_

"Numbers aren't a big factor."

_"If you surrender, you have my word that all your men will be well-treated."_

"And the Jedi?"

Yularen blinked before answering. _"The Jedi are enemies of the Empire. We will deal with them as such."_

"Then I cannot surrender. The Jedi on Harvest are under the protection of the United Nations of Earth and Her Colonies. They are de facto citizens. I am charged with providing all UN citizens that same protection. I will _not_ hand them over to be slaughtered."

Yularen was silent for a long time before saying, _"Then I regret to say that you and your soldiers will be given no quarter. I will, however, allow fifteen minutes for you civilians to evacuate. That is all."_ The transmission ended.

Warner continued as if Yularen hadn't spoken at all. "Green, put those artillery pieces in place. When the Empire lands, I want them to experience the full benefit of Army hospitality."

"Yes sir."

000

**I-Day: 0155 hrs**

Lieutenant Darius Green looked up at the sky and put powerful Mk IV binoculars to his eyes. Far off, a small constellation of fast moving stars were being obscured by large explosions. "Looks like the Guard is getting its ass kicked pretty hard," Green commented.

"That makes it official: The Imps Are Coming," said Cmdr. Ellen Sharpe. Like Green, Sharpe was in the Office of Naval Intelligence. "How did we not see this coming? Does Section One even bother to do its job anymore?"

"Seriously, Ellen? No one thought the Imps would grow a pair and attack like this."

Sharpe sighed. "Well, I guess it's up to Section Three to do things right. Tell Lieutenant Commander Barclay to mobilize his people."

000

**I-Day: 0234 hrs**

As expected, the Colonial Guard Fleet was no match for ITF Saber, but it had gone down fighting. Two Victory IIs and four Acclamators were lost, and one Imperator was destroyed. Nevertheless, the remaining Guard ships were on the retreat. A few jumped outsystem, but a few others took up positions alongside Harvest's orbital guns.

"Let's put those guns to the test," Yularen said. "Engage the orbital defenses."

A wave of thirty Victory IIs moved up, lead by two Imperators and four Venators.

000

Captain Ryan Grayson saw thirty-six enemy vessels moving into the killzone of the MAC guns under his command. "Report."

"Two Indias, four Victors and thirty Oscars," an officer said.

"Let 'em have it."

"Aye sir. Going loud!"

000

The Imperator-Class Star Destroyer was one of the most powerful ships in the Imperial Navy, destined to phase out the older Venators. With six heavy turbo-lasers and numerous medium-sized guns, it could deal a frightening amount of punishment. With advanced shielding and armor, it could also take as much punishment as it gave. There were only a few weapons in the galaxy capable of frightening a commander of such a vessel, and one was the Mk V Super Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, the UNSC Navy's primary orbital defense gun.

The "Super MAC" or "Big Stick" fired a 3,000 ton ferric-tungsten shell at a speed roughly forty percent of the speed of light. The kinetic energy imparted upon impact was equivalent to 5867.5 tons of TNT. It was a weapon designed to kill large ships, and it did its job well.

The first ship to feel the fury of Harvest's defenses was the Imperator-Class ship _Firestorm_. The MAC shell slammed into the Star Destroyer and punched a sizable hole. The kinetic energy shoved the _Firestorm_ off course and into the path of a Victory II. The two ships collided, and the ensuing explosion destroyed both vessels.

_Firestorm _and the ship it crashed into weren't the only ones unfortunate enough to feel the pain. Ten rounds had been fired from all ten guns, and eight Victories were now scrap, as well as a Venator.

Yularen was stunned. "Eleven ships? They destroyed eleven ships just like that?"

"They're firing again!" Captain Mayar reported.

Seeing another ten ships destroyed, including the second Imperator, Yularen said, "Pull them back. We need to devise another strategy to take those platforms out of action."

000

Grayson was pleased. "That's what I call a hard smack on the nose."

General Warner didn't share the optimism. _"What now?"_

Grayson thought about it. "My guess is that they'll try what the Covenant did at Earth: send in a wave of boarding ships covered by fighters."

_"Can you hold them off?"_

"With what we have? No. We don't have nearly enough fighters to take on that kind of attack."

_"Make do with what you have. Excalibur out."_

000

Yularen examined the orbital defenses on the main viewer. All ten platforms were pointed at his fleet, but he was out of range. They were deadly to ships, that much was clear. Fighters could evade the large projectiles, but there wasn't much damage a few snub fighters could do against the stations. Boarding ships would have to do.

"Prepare boarding parties," Yularen said. "I want storm troopers in those platforms. And get Commander Bow up here."

A few minutes later, the commanding officer of the 501st Legion appeared at Yularen's side. "Yes, Admiral?"

"Your men are to board those platforms. Destroy them, disable them, I don't care. I want them out of action."

"Sir, it would be nice if those fighters are out of the way. I've seen them in action."

"I will deal with the fighters, Commander Bow. You keep your concerns limited to your mission. Dismissed."

"Sir! Yes sir!" Bow responded, his helmet hiding any emotions he might have shown. He missed the days when superiors actually listened. Too bad those superiors had turned out to be Jedi.

000

"Hmm." Grayson looked at the TAC screen. "Ho-lee shit. That's a lot of fighters. Asgard Station to Alpha Base: we are about to be bum-rushed by a lot of fighters. You can bet they've brought boarding craft with them."

_"What do you need?"_ Warner asked.

" A lot more fighters, for starters. The Air Force could lend a few of their vacuum-capable planes. The Guard cruisers that are here can lend a little CIWS muscle. The wets can lend a few more F/A-32s." The 'wets' referred to the ocean-based UNSC Navy, also called the Wet Navy, and its fleet of multi-role F/A-32 Spatha fighters.

_"The Guard ships can help you. But I can't put any more fighters up there. You'll have to make do with what you have."_

Grayson felt a pit grow in his stomach. "Sir, I cannot hold off the enemy with what I have. You _will_ lose platforms. There _will_ be holes in the orbital defense grid. Imperial troops _will_ land on Harvest. I can guarantee it."

_"Good. Then I can deal with them in a field where we're stronger."_

Grayson wondered whether he should say what he had on his mind. Then again, a court-martial would be the least of his worries if he was dead… "Sir, you're Army. You don't know what I need. I do."

Warner paused before responding. _"Son, what I'm telling you is not a suggestion. It's a fucking order. Make do with what you have. Excalibur out."_

"Fuck you!" Grayson shouted, but Warner had already cut the connection. Then he noticed that his crew was looking at him.

One officer quietly said, "We're gonna die here, aren't we sir?"

Grayson was silent for a long time before answering. "That's not a concern right now, Lieutenant. Your concern is your orders. You will follow them to the letter. All of you." He had to steel himself before going on. "I'm honored to have served with you all. Now, let's show those Imps how the Navy 'surrenders'."

"Hooyah!" It was a chorus and a shout of defiance aimed at an enemy that was even now advancing on them.

Grayson then turned to Gunnery Sergeant Paul Mbeke. "Gunny, you know what to do."

"Yes sir." Mbeke gathered his men in an empty hangar bay, preparing to address his Marines. There he said, "Marines! The Army has decided they are not fighting for us. And they're right, because we don't let anybody do our fighting for us! Now, the Imps have decided that they're gonna board this station. They've figured it's gonna be a cakewalk . Well, they're wrong! They aren't facing Army soldiers. They aren't facing Guardsmen. They are facing the UNSC Marine Corps, and they're gonna pay for _every single inch_ of deck with blood! Am I right Marines?!"

"Sir! Yes sir!" came the ready reply.

"Well, what are you waiting' for? An engraved invitation?! Move it!"

000

**I-Day: 0355 hrs **

_The Halcyon-Class cruiser is technologically inferior to all modern warships. All cruisers of that class have been upgraded for Colonial Guard duties, but they will not last long in a protracted engagement._

**-Imperial Intelligence memo regarding Halcyon-Class cruisers**

The cloud of V-Wings and new TIE fighters approached. Commander Victor Getz whistled in awe. He didn't fear for himself—his cruiser, the Halcyon-Class _Red Sunrise_, was capable of absorbing damage that no modern vessel save a battleship could sustain—but he knew that there was no way to destroy all those fighters. And behind those fighters would be boarding craft.

Getz was a Guardsman, as was his crew: reserve soldiers and sailors called upon to defend their respective worlds. The mainstream military tended to look down on them. But they knew how to fight. And they would do it well. _Hell, we managed to hold off a vastly superior force for an hour_, Getz thought.

There were few survivors from that action still at Harvest. Those ships that weren't destroyed had fled to Madrigal, and Getz had managed to convince three other ships, _Starlit Skies_, _Christmas Eve_ and _Eternal Spring_, to stay with him.

During wartime—as this was most definitely wartime—the respective branches of the Guard went back under the control of their parent organizations; i.e., the UNCG fleet became part of the Navy, the UNCG ground forces went under Army jurisdiction, and so on, a measure designed to prevent the circumstances of another colonial insurrection; the Colonial Guard's predecessor, the Colonial Military Administration, had mostly sided with the Insurrection during the bloody civil war that had preceded the Covenant War. That meant that Getz answered to Captain Grayson. Grayson had just made it clear that they could expect no support from the surface, which meant that the Navy was on its own. Still, the _Sunrise_ packed an impressive amount of CIWS muscle, and the cruisers had a large amount of Archer missiles. And there were the F-117 Katana Interceptors and F/A-32 Spatha fighters. Those Imperial fighters would be flying into a deadly hailstorm.

"Commander, enemy fighters are closing into missile range."

"Lock onto the lead elements," Getz said. "Hold your fire until all those fighters are within range."

"Aye sir. Firing solution ready." They were nearly in range. It was imperative that the squadron leaders be knocked out first. Without them, the Imperials would be in disarray.

Suddenly, the enemy fighters peeled away, revealing that they had been a smoke-screen for a set of smaller, faster objects. The nature of those objects soon became all too clear.

"Contact! Multiple proton torpedoes incoming!"

Getz opened his mouth to say something, but it was far too late to do anything at all. The torpedoes soared into the Navy fighters' ranks, decimating them. Several larger torpedoes struck the _Sunrise_. The cruiser listed to port, and Getz was thrown to the deck.

But the damage didn't end there. Acclamator II-Class Assault Frigates had closed in as well, risking the wrath of the MAC platforms. They fired a volley of turbolaser fire and missiles. The orbital guns pivoted and fired back. Although several assault ships were destroyed, their ordnance continued on. Two platforms shuddered from the impacts of several torpedoes. One was forced into the atmosphere, where Harvest's gravity overwhelmed the station's thrusters. That station continued its rapid trip, straight to the surface. The other was shredded and rendered useless, venting vapor…and dead crewmen.

"Status!" Getz shouted.

"Sir!" said his XO, bleeding from a head wound, "We've lost two ODPs and a lot of fighters! Those Imps are still hitting us; the fighters flanked us while we took that beating. They're everywhere!"

"Return fire! Give 'em everything we've got!"

The _Sunrise_ answered the challenge with gusto. Although hit hard, the cruiser was still fully operational. Her 50mm CIWS cannons blazed, blasting enemy fighters to pieces. Within a few seconds the space immediately around the ship was clear, and the _Sunrise_ maneuvered to take on the next enemy.

For there were more enemies where the fighters came from. The enemy assault frigates had closed in, too close to the cruisers that Grayson couldn't risk firing on them for fear of hitting friendlies. At 1170 meters in length, the Halcyon-Class cruiser dwarfed the Acclamators' 752 meters, but the armament on the smaller vessels was considerably more powerful close up, as they were now. The _Sunrise_'s MAC rounds did do damage, but they needed range to make full use of their kinetic power, range which was being denied to them.

"Hull's nearly compromised, sir!" the XO shouted, moments before a falling panel struck him across the head. He fell to the deck and didn't move.

He was right, however. Despite the impressive honeycomb-structure of the cruiser, the firepower she was taking was too much to handle. Huge sections of deck were now exposed to space, and much of the ship was on fire.

Getz looked around. Most of the bridge crew was dead or unconscious. Getz himself had a broken arm and leg, and couldn't do much of anything, except ordering the remaining crew to abandon ship and activating the ship's old AI. When the enemy frigate in front of the _Sunrise_ fired its next volley, it seemed to Getz that the turbolaser bolts were coming right at him. And he was right.

The bolts, each strong enough to vaporize a small town, struck the bridge with tremendous force. The viewports shattered and the vacuum sucked out anything that wasn't bolted down. Getz's last impression was that of flying through the night sky. Then darkness took him and he knew no more.

The _Red Sunrise_ began to roll with the blasts hitting her. Sensing that she was no longer being controlled, the enemy frigates proceeded past her, engaging her sister ships. However, there was one backup that no one had expected. The cruiser's "dumb" AI, which had not been allowed by Getz to operate until that moment due to suspected rampancy issues, took over control of the stricken ship. With the MAC out of commission and her missile pods empty, the _Sunrise_'s only remaining weapon was herself.

The commander of the frigate _Geonosis_ first noticed that the cruiser had stopped rolling, but didn't take too much concern. It was only when the _Sunrise_ started to accelerate towards him did he realize that something was terribly wrong. But by then, it was much too late.

The _Red Sunrise_ slammed into the _Geonosis_ with tremendous force; another Imperial commander would later comment that it was like seeing a hammer hitting a loaf of bread. The resulting explosion finally overwhelmed the hull of the cruiser. The bow snapped off, and explosions chained down the stern. Despite that, the stern was still remarkably intact. The bow was partially vaporized along with the _Geonosis_. The fires in the stern cooked off the ammo in the CIWS turrets and the _Red Sunrise _fired one last defiant volley before finally falling silent.

The Imperial ships steamed victoriously past the wreck…only to be summarily scrapped by the orbital guns, which no longer had to fear friendly fire. Another ODP had fallen victim to a volley of torpedoes. Yet another, Asgard Station, was being boarded by storm troopers.

000

Gunnery Sergeant Paul Mbeke stared open-mouthed at the last action of the _Sunrise_. "Damn."

Lance Corporal Tracy Hendricks was also looking. "I don't know about you Gunny, but I'm never gonna say anything bad about the Navy or the Guard ever again."

"Rest in peace, sailors," whispered Private Dan Sorenson.

"We can mourn another time, Marines," Mbeke said. "Let's show those Imps what we can do."

There were only twenty Marines available to defend the station, a result of cutbacks by the civilian administration. A few Navy security personnel had to supplement the defense (even the resident NCIS Agent Afloat had decided to join in). Mbeke didn't want all of them to die, so he'd arranged quick paths to the escape pods.

There was a portion of the station that left it vulnerable to boarding attacks due to design. From that point, enemy troops could quickly spread to all parts of the station. It was here that the Marine detail had set up defenses: turrets, claymores, blast shields and even Covenant deployable covers. The Imperials would eventually overwhelm them, Mbeke knew, but he'd determined that they'd have to climb over a lot of dead bodies to do so.

000

Lieutenant CC-5555/501 "Fives" readied his DC-15S blaster carbine. The smaller weapon was better suited for close combat than the larger DC-15A rifle, and it had a decent rate of fire. Thermal detonators would also come in handy in tight spaces…although that could work against them as well. Fives had seen what UNSC fragmentation grenades could do to flesh-and-blood targets, and felt that he'd rather get incinerated by a thermal det. Even with a hundred men ready to assault the station, Fives knew it would be a hard slog.

Fives examined his men. They were all veterans of the Clone Wars, all sporting the blue of the 501st Elite Legion, Vader's iron fist. The news that the Empire would phase out the Legion colors for the whole army saddened Fives, who felt that the 501st at least deserved to keep their colors. They had earned that right through much blood. And they were going to earn it again. They were determined, strong, skilled. They were the best that the Imperial Army could offer.

The Marines didn't have a chance.

000

"Here they come!" shouted Sorenson.

The storm troopers' assault boat had docked, and arc cutters were cutting through the thick steel bulkheads. Then, with little warning, the doors blew in and storm troopers poured in after.

The explosion that the Imperials had triggered had the unwanted effect (for them) of setting off the claymores and other booby traps the Marines had rigged near the doors. The series of explosions were deafening. Pieces of armor with blue paint flew everywhere. Fortunately for the storm troopers, nearly all the claymores had been set off, and not nearly as many troopers had been killed as Mbeke had hoped. The rest charged in behind a hail of blue blaster fire.

The Marines responded with a withering hail of bullets. The three turrets mowed down the charging Imperials, who found that there was little cover to be had. But their aiming was impeccable; three Marines were already dead, along with a Navy guard and the NCIS agent.

Mbeke was not one of those dead Marines. Aiming his assault rifle, he said, "Marines! Short controlled bursts! Don't waste ammo!" Then he showed how it was done by putting a three-round burst through a storm trooper's head.

The Marines did so, but they couldn't help but spray and pray. There were so many storm troopers charging in, there were too many to target individually. And the storm troopers themselves weren't idle cannon fodder. One chucked a thermal detonator that wiped out five Marines and a turret. The other two turrets quickly ran out of ammo. The Marines now started throwing grenades with abandon, shredding several storm troopers but unable to stop the flood.

"Retreat! Get to the lifeboats!" Mbeke shouted. The remaining Marines retreated and the Gunny shut a large blast door. It would hold off the Imperials for a little while. "Control Room, this is Mbeke. We couldn't hold them. I suggest you haul ass and get to the lifeboats."

_"Negative,"_ Captain Grayson replied. _"Every assault ship that stays intact is another sixteen thousand Imperials that they can throw at the ground troops. We need to take out as many as we can."_

"What are your orders, sir?" Mbeke asked, fully expecting Grayson to ask him to continue to defend the station.

_"Get your people out, Gunny,"_ was the surprising reply. _"That's an order."_

Mbeke was silent. _Why do these squids have to be so damn heroic_, he thought. "Yes sir. Good luck."

_"Semper Fi, Gunny. Grayson out."_

"Oorah," Mbeke whispered. He turned to his Marines, most of whom were wounded. "You heard the man. Get in the lifeboat."

Eight Marines and a Navy officer boarded the small craft, the survivors of the security detail. They left the station behind. Mbeke found that he wanted to look back at the station, but knew that the guilt would overwhelm him if he did.

The Naval officer was piloting the Bumblebee lifeboat. Suddenly, he turned pale. "Shit, V-Wings on our six. Hold on." The officer put the boat into a turn that threatened to toss any passenger not wearing a harness.

The two V-Wings easily caught up to the lifeboat. Green bolts streaked past the Bumblebee, which narrowly avoided it with the officer's piloting skills. Even so, the V-Wings effortlessly kept up. "They're sticking to us like glue!" Sorenson shouted. "Can't you do something?"

"I'll do the flying, jarhead!" the officer shouted back. He keyed the COM. "This is Lifeboat Tango Echo November Six One. We are under heavy fire from two bogies. Can anyone assist, over?" The call was repeated twice before a response came.

_"Six One, this is King Two Six. I'm right with ya."_

K-26 turned out to be an F-117 Katana fighter, the Navy's air/space superiority fighter. It looked like a shrunken-down version of the old, decommissioned C-709 Longsword, but it was geared more towards fighter duties than its multi-role predecessor. Armed with eight ASGM-12 missiles and a 110mm rotary cannon, it was a very fast, very agile and very deadly fighter.

K-26 proved that the Katana was worth every penny by destroying one V-Wing before the Katana even appeared on the Bumblebee's scopes. The other V-Wing's pilot searched frantically for K-26, breaking off from the chase. He did finally find K-26, but seconds later he was shredded by the cannon. _"King Two Six to Tango Echo November Six One, you're clear. I'll cover you as long as I can."_

"Roger that, thanks," the officer replied. "Whew."

Mbeke nodded respectfully at the officer. "Nice flying, mister…?"

"Warrant Officer Martin Wright, at your service." Suddenly the lifeboat shook. "Damn. I knew that they'd gotten me at least once."

"What?" Hendricks said. "I thought you were a hot-shot pilot."

"This thing is a bus, not a sports car! Now shut up! King Two Six, can you see any damage?"

_"Uhh, roger that Six One. You've been hit at least once. Can you make a controlled descent?"_

"Affirmative, Two Six." Then alarms started ringing. "Shit! Two Six, I've been locked onto!"

_"Copy that, I see 'em. Hey, they're heavies. ARC-170s. Sorry Six One; I think I pissed them off."_

Wright started maneuvering radically again. "How many, Two Six?"

_"Seven. Don't worry, I can take 'em. Hope you make it down alright. Two Six out."_

Wright shook his head. "Too many damned heroes." He grimaced as the lifeboat shook. "C'mon baby, hold together."

000

Captain Grayson armed himself with his ceremonial M6E. All the remaining crew were armed now, and judging by the sparks slicing through the doors of the command center they would need every last bullet. Grayson knew that he'd have to hand off the firing to the station AI, but he resolved to do it himself until the last possible moment.

There was a sudden explosion, and Grayson knew what it was without having to see. Immediately he entered the code for the AI to take over and took aim with the pistol.

Unlike the Marines, the Navy officers weren't trained for combat. They had mediocre aim and no understanding of infantry tactics. But they fought anyway.

The men of the 501st found themselves indulging in something that came close to the definition of slaughter. At least the Jedi had been a challenge. This was murder, and Lt. Fives was sickened by the necessity of it. His orders were not to take prisoners, and he didn't.

Grayson, hit twice, saw a storm trooper wearing a shoulder pauldron, indicating an officer of some sort. His aim was even worse now, be he fought through the pain to try and steady his hand. He squeezed the trigger…

…and actually hit his target. The hit wasn't fatal, not by a long shot; it blew off Fives's helmet and knocked the stunned clone on his back. Fives, furious now, resolved not to let the wounded man get off another shot. He drew a vibro-blade and lunged.

Grayson was by now too weak and disoriented to do anything, and barely felt the knife slide in between his ribs. Death came quickly, and the man shut his eyes, content that he'd served the UNSC and the Navy well to the end.

Fives for his part was glad to be alive, and resolved to never underestimate a wounded man again. He contacted Commander Bow. "We've secured the station."

_"Good,"_ said Bow, _"But the UNSC has rallied. Set up the bomb, get out of there and regroup. Out."_

000

The remaining assault ships and frigates retreated, leaving behind many cracked hulls. But an explosion finished off a fourth orbital gun, and many enemy fighters were destroyed. Admiral Yularen knew the time had come to end the naval battle. In less than an hour, he planned to do just that.

00000


	4. Chapter 4

Mbeke woke up, groggy and dazed. He also had a pounding headache. "S-sound off," he managed.

One by one, quiet voices answered. "Damn Gunny," whispered Sorenson. "You had us worried for a sec. Wright landed pretty hard, but we're all OK, 'cept for a few dings. He's a good pilot."

"Is he OK?"

"Yeah."

Mbeke looked around. The sun hadn't risen yet, and the only light came from a portable lamp and the lifeboat's running lights. Up in the sky, the explosions of ordnance signified that the naval battle was still hot. A massive explosion hinted at the destruction of Asgard Station, and Mbeke turned away. "Anyone know where we are?"

Wright answered. "I passed over the capital on the way down, so we should be somewhere northwest of it."

"How far?"

"Dunno. Command should've noticed us coming in, so they should send an evac bird."

"Look!" said a private. "Another lifeboat's coming in!"

Mbeke saw it too: a cylinder-shaped object wrapped in a fireball. It roared in and impacted several meters away on the other side of a small hill. "Let's check it out. Stay alert."

They approached the crash site. It became immediately apparent that the lifeboat was actually a life_pod_, unlike any design used by the UNSC. The words **IAS FEARLESS** above the access hatch only confirmed their suspicions that this was an Imperial pod. Weapons were now raised and pointed at the hatch.

"Sorenson, open it. Hendricks, cover him," Mbeke said. Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted Wright with his pistol out, looking intently at the pod.

"Looks like a command module," he told Mbeke. "CO's personal escape pod. Could be a lot of officers in there."

To Mbeke, that meant that there would be a lot of weapons in there, pointed at the hatch, just waiting for someone to open it. Out of nowhere his COM crackled. _"This is Cabbie Nine Three Six. Anyone out there, over?"_ The unorthodox call-sign marked the bird as an Army dropship.

Mbeke responded. "This is Gunnery Sergeant Paul Mbeke, Marine Corps."

_"State your ID."_

"920138488."

_"Good. Now your Service Number."_

"90384-88193-PM," Mbeke said with a trace of irritation. "Now get your ass over here. We've got an Imp escape pod with an unknown number of hostiles inside."

_"Sorry Gunny, had to check. We're being ambushed by Imperials who're asking for help, pretending to be our guys. We'll be with you in five. Cabbie-936 out."_

Mbeke turned his attention to the pod. Sorenson was opening it. He motioned everyone to stand back and opened the hatch. Immediately a flurry of blaster bolts flew out.

Sorenson looked at Mbeke. "I'd say that there's someone in there, Gunny."

"Yeah, me too." Mbeke raised his voice. "This is the UNSC Marine Corps! You are surrounded! Toss out your weapons and come out with your hands on your head!"

For a while, there was no answer. Then: "What guarantee do I have that you won't shoot us?"

"We're bound by the Geneva Conventions of 1949," Mbeke replied. "As long as you lay down your arms, you will be treated with due respect as a prisoner of war."

Another pause, then: "Alright then. I'm tossing out my weapon and I am instructing my comrades to do the same."

In short order, two blaster pistols, a carbine and two rifles were tossed out. Then two officers and three storm troopers emerged with hands raised. The troopers wore the grey of the 182nd Shock Legion, which meant that they weren't the ones that assaulted Asgard Station. One officer wore the markings of an Ensign, the same as a Second Lieutenant in the Marines. The other wore Navy Captain's markings. "Who are you?" Mbeke asked.

"Captain Josin Devin, Imperial Navy," the older man replied. "I'm sorry, but that is all I'm allowed to say."

"When the spooks get a hold of you, you'll start talking," Mbeke promised, spotting the Army dropship.

The dropship was a new D79-TCI Goshawk, a slimmer, faster and better armored replacement for the old but venerable D-77H-TCI Pelican. This one was decked out in ACU camouflage to make sure that onlookers knew it was an Army dropship, and it had a nose-mounted M365 Gatling gun. A spotlight attached to the gun now focused on the group. Then it finally landed, opening its rear door. It was cramped inside—the Goshawk was designed to carry ten soldiers, not eight Marines, two Navy officers and three POWs—but the Goshawk didn't seem affected in the slightest by the extra weight. Gracefully it took off and headed for the capital.

000

_"Big Stick Diplomacy."_

**Anonymous UNSC Navy sailor, on how an orbital MAC gun operates.**

Captain Mayar looked at Captain Sixer, the CO of the Imperial Commando company attached to ITF Saber, and Captain Beta, the CO of the Beta-ARC detachment. "We've destroyed several orbital guns, but the remaining six are still destroying more ships than we anticipated. Admiral Yularen isn't willing to risk more ships for a boarding action."

"You want us to do something on the ground," Beta said. It wasn't a question.

"Right," Mayar said, biting back a reprimand. ARCs were notoriously rude, and Beta hadn't deviated from that line. "The orbital guns are powered by ground based generators. I remember a UNSC Navy Captain telling me that they haven't been able to put a generator onto a platform without making the platform vulnerable, and the ground-based generators are mostly safe from ships anyway. Those generators have to be destroyed in order for the orbital guns to be disabled."

"Permission to speak, ma'am," said Sixer.

Mayar appreciated the courtesy the commando showed. "Granted."

"Ma'am, what are the defenses on the ground like?"

"We believe that the Colonial Guard is responsible for guarding the generators, but considering the current situation the UNSC has most definitely beefed up their defenses. Expect regular Army and Marines."

"We don't have enough manpower to take on that kind of defense," Beta said. "ARCs and commandos are capable of a lot, but we're not equipped to take on a regular army force."

"You'll have plenty of air support," Mayar assured. "That same air support will escort your CR-20s. The 20s are small enough to evade the orbital guns, and the opposing navy doesn't have enough fighters to take on your escorts."

"Well, we know that we can get down there," Beta said. "What about getting out?"

"You needn't worry about that if you destroy the generators," Mayar replied. "Once that's done, the army will land in force and establish a base, where you will regroup."

"Where's this base going to be again?" Beta asked.

"Elysium Fields," Mayar said. "That's what the locals call it. The open plains area gives our assault ships an advantage, since the enemy can't launch a ground assault big enough to destroy our base without risking orbital bombardment."

"No cover for us either," Beta noted. "Artillery would tear us to pieces."

"That's not your concern, Captain," Mayar said sternly. "Leave that to the ground commanders. Get your men ready. Dismissed."

Sixer saluted smartly and marched off. Beta simply shook his head and left. He didn't salute. Mayar contained her frustrations. Although far from the idyllic Imperial soldier, ARCs were extremely capable soldiers, and their behavioral problems were often overlooked because of their skills. Beta was tolerated because he produced results, as did all his men.

That was how Mayar knew that those generators were as good as destroyed.

000

**I-Day: 0500 hrs**

In the command center in Asgard City that was code-named 'Excalibur', General Warner looked at the holographic map. Elysium Fields was targeted by artillery, and the ground based generators were fully protected. He wasn't sure what good protecting the generators would do considering that Captain Grayson was dead and Asgard Station was gone. Warner felt great regret for Grayson and his crew, even though knowing that their last stand gave the UNSC precious time to prepare the defenses.

Colonel Green noticed. "You did what you had to do, sir."

"Doesn't make me less of a bastard," Warner said. "Is everyone in place?"

"For the most part. Colonel Tarkov doesn't want to abandon Fort Green." Emile Tarkov was the commandant at Fort Green, a base belonging to the 82nd ODST Division's 19th Shock Troops Battalion.

"Goddamn that man," Warner growled. "I fucking told him to put his ass here in Asgard."

"He believes that Fort Green's position allows him to delay any Imperial advance from Elysium Fields," Green explained. "ODSTs don't retreat without a fight. At least, that's what he told me. He also told me that it's never a good idea to put all your eggs in one basket. He appears to think that if we mass in the capital the Empire will simply glass the city."

Warner examined the map again. "Like he knows exactly where the Imps are landing." Then he spotted something. "Wait… damn, I underestimated the man. The pass, Nathan. The pass would allow the Imps to flank us. But the ODSTs are positioned to defend it."

The pass that Warner was referring to was Oswald Pass in the Loki mountain range, northeast of Asgard. Fort Green was near the mountain range, in the shadow of Mount Loki itself. Mt. Loki, in turn, overlooked Oswald Pass, named after the man who found it. The ODSTs routinely used the pass to practice engagements and therefore knew it intimately.

Green understood as well. "I'll tell Tarkov that you have his blessing."

An urgent message then came over the COM system: _"Command, this is Generator Complex Nine. We are under attack by numerous hostiles."_

Before Warner could even begin to think of a response, several more messages came in of the same nature. Colonel Green looked at the map. "They're hitting all the generators for the active guns," he reported. "Looks like commandos and ARCs."

"Order the units guarding the stations to retreat," Warner ordered. "There's no use for the orbital guns now."

"Yes sir."

000

**I-Day: 0630 hrs**

Admiral Yularen examined the wreckage of the orbital platforms from the bridge of his ship. "Fascinating," he said. "They're primitive, yet effective. I can see why the UNSC continues to rely on such weaponry."

"The assault ships are ready to land," Captain Mayar reported.

"Order them to land."

000

Emile Tarkov smiled as he saw the face of a friend. "Nathan, I can see from your face that you've convinced General Warner."

_"I sure have,"_ Green responded. _"You have his blessing. Defend the pass. Those are his orders."_

"I will," Tarkov promised. Tarkov liked Green even though the man was Army. Green was sensible and polite, unlike General Warner. He trusted Green's judgment more than Warner's. "How long do you think I will have?"

_"Not long,"_ Green admitted. _"About as long as our artillery and flak guns hold off their assault ships."_

"How long?" Tarkov persisted.

_"An hour."_

Tarkov seemed pleased. "Excellent. My men will have plenty of time."

_"Good luck, then. Don't die on me, Emile."_

"I have faced Covenant, Nathan. I won't be killed by some clone trooper."

_"I hope so. Excalibur out."_

000

Commander Bly observed the Elysium Fields from the bridge of the assault ship IAS _Majestic_. His naval counterpart, Commander Gett, had escaped the wreckage of his previous command and taken over after _Majestic_'s CO was killed. Both men thought the other very sensible, and Bly looked forward to working with Gett.

"No worries so far," Gett observed. "At least, that's how it is before the osik hits the turbofans."

"What do you expect?" Bly asked.

"Artillery, at the very least. Possibly fighters." Gett frowned. "Strange, though. They should've attacked by now. Do they have the ordnance?"

Bly thought about it. "If I was the enemy commander, I'd wait till the assault ships are about to land, then hit them. These crates are rather hard to maneuver in atmosphere, right?"

"Right," Gett agreed. He keyed the com. "All hands, prepare for incoming artillery fire." No sooner had he said it than the assault ship started shaking.

"I'd say that was an arty strike," Bly said.

"Sir!" said a clone officer. "The artillery fire is coming from a ridge southwest of us! The ridge is shielding them from our guns."

"Get me Captain Beta!" Gett said to the com officer. Once that was done, Gett said, "Captain, there is enemy artillery to the south of your position. Assault it."

_"We can't destroy all of them,"_ Beta said.

"You just have to get their attention, Beta. Just stanging do it!"

_"Yes sir."_

Despite himself, Gett smiled. "He said 'sir'."

000

**I-Day: 0647 hrs**

Beta clutched his DC-15A rifle as he peered at the UNSC artillery positions. The noise was awe-inspiring. So was the opposition: nearly five companies of regular Army troops guarded the artillery. All that Beta had with him were about eight ARCs and twenty commandos. Among them, there were only two PLEX rocket launchers with four rounds. It wasn't enough to destroy the artillery position.

But it was enough to get attention.

"Hit them," Beta said.

A commando got the soldiers' attention quite fast, firing a rocket at a Rhino artillery vehicle. The tracked vehicle exploded, taking with it several soldiers. "Ha!" laughed the commando as he scrambled for cover. "Guess who's here!"

The UNSC soldiers weren't amused. Bullets soon started whistling through the air, and Warthog LRVs started to appear. One 'Hog was swallowed in a ball of flame, but the rest continued to pump out bullets at an alarming rate. "Echuta!" Beta muttered. "Grenades! Up and over, commandos!"

Several thermal detonators flew through the air. The blasts didn't kill as many soldiers at Beta would have liked, but the LRVs were out of action, at least for the moment. Beta used the lull in fire to charge, his men loyally following him.

The enemy soldiers responded as they were trained to do, but they were green, Beta realized. They had no experience dealing with special forces. Nevertheless, they responded with admirable swiftness. The artillery fire, however, slowed as the UNSC units attempted to respond to the assault.

000

"You have to hand it to Beta," Gett said. "He gets things done. Helm, prepare to land."

"Yes sir," the clone replied.

"I suppose I'll get my troops ready," Bly said. "I'll see you later, Commander."

"Likewise, Commander," Gett replied.

Later, in the muster bay, Bly addressed his yellow-emblazoned troopers, the men of the 327th Star Corps. "Troopers! We are the first regular units to land on UN soil. This is an honor granted to us by the Emperor for our excellent service to the Empire. We have yet another opportunity to prove ourselves: we face the best that the UNSC has to offer. The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers claim to be the best soldiers in the galaxy. I say that it's about time someone proved them wrong! We will defeat them utterly, and we will occupy their own base!

"Troopers! Do not underestimate our enemy. They may be outnumbered, but they are tough. They are well-trained. They are battle-hardened. They are fighting on ground that is familiar to them. Do not make the mistakes that the Seps made. Respect their skills, and you will find that they are easier to kill.

"Troopers! I know you. I have faith in you. The Emperor has faith in you. I have no doubt that we will be victorious. The galaxy will know of your deeds today. Now, let us go forth and bring glory to the Empire. For the Emperor!"

The troopers repeated Bly's last statement, and prepared for battle.

000

**I-Day: 0700hrs**

"Shit," Green observed. "Imperial commandos are wreaking havoc in our arty positions, General Warner. The bastards are using the opportunity to land their assault ships."

Warner weighed his options. It was an easy choice, really. "Order Silo Site One to fire on those assault ships."

"Yes sir."

000

The sun was rising in the sky, and Gett admired the mostly flat plains. His admiration was cut short, however.

"Commander!" the PWO (Principle Weapons Officer) shouted. "Incoming missiles!"

Gett was about to order evasive maneuvers when he remembered that his assault ships were landed, with engines shutdown. "Initiate anti-missile procedures!"

The Kali ballistic missile was an ancient weapon, or at least it was based on an ancient weapon. Usually tipped with nukes, the nukes had been removed post-Clone Wars and replaced with conventional explosives. Nevertheless, they packed a potent punch. IAS _Royal_ found this out the hard way. Several Kalis struck the ship, which was still offloading troopers. The missiles punched through the unshielded vessel and exploded deep within it. The assault ship seemed to inflate like a balloon and deflated with explosive force, plumes of fire shooting down her loading ramps and engulfing the men nearby.

_Majestic_ and_ 019_ managed to get their missile defenses online faster than _Royal_. Comp lasers, far more powerful than those mounted on gunships, targeted each missile with pin-point accuracy, with the result that most of the missiles never reached their marks. Some did, however, and Gett found himself face-down on the deck. "Damage report!" Gett shouted.

"Significant damage, sir," a trooper reported. "Several casualties on all forward decks. The men disembarking from _Royal_...unknown number of casualties, likely high."

"Peewo, did you trace those missiles back to their source?"

"Yes sir," the PWO replied.

"Order an orbital strike on that position."

000

"And there goes Site One," Green commented, watching on his monitor as green bolts the size of skyscrapers slammed into the missile complex. "At least we took one out."

"That counts for a lot," Warner said. "Not even half of what they can throw at us, though. How goes the artillery?"

"Not good."

000

Captain Beta would have used the same evaluation for his situation. Four ARCs and twelve commandos were dead; the UNSC troops were rallying, and more 'Hogs were coming up, this time armed with Gauss cannons. There were no more PLEX missiles left, and no more grenades; the men were improvising with frag grenades looted from the dead enemy soldiers. The good news was that the enemy artillery pieces appeared to be packing it in, rolling away towards a mountain pass.

"Beta," said Captain Sixer, appearing at the ARC's side. "We'll be overwhelmed if we stay here. Recommend we fall back to the assembly area."

"Negative," Beta said. "We don't have vehicles. They'll cut us down as we run. Call for support."

"Copy."

000

"The special forces team is calling for extraction," Bly reported. "They've taken heavy losses."

"Alright," Gett said. "Send in the gunships."

000

The Low Altitude Assault Transport/infantry gunship was one of the most versatile units in the Grand Army of the Republic and its successor, the Imperial Army. The LAAT/i, or "larty" as it was affectionately known, was capable of acting both as a troop carrier and a gunship, fulfilling two roles without any degradation in performance. Armed with deadly laser cannons and missiles, it had a reputation of cutting through the opposition with ease and was valued as a vehicle that was perfect for extraction from hot zones.

Gett spared no effort in the extraction of the stranded commandos. About twenty gunships roared in towards the ridge where the action was taking place, cannons blazing. Two Warthogs exploded immediately, followed by several more. The gunship squadrons also took the opportunity to strafe the retreating artillery pieces, destroying several.

Beta didn't care. He was just happy that his men could make it out alive. He waited till everyone else had boarded their gunships, then boarded the nearest one, relaxing for the first time that day. Despite his concern for his injured men, fatigue took its toll and he was fast asleep by the time the gunships began the return journey.

000

"Those larties just cut through our artillery," Green said. "I've forgotten how deadly they are."

Warner grimaced at the casually figures. "At least we gave Tarkov enough time to set up his defenses. What about ours?"

"Most of the civilians have been moved out of the capital, sir. There are the usual dumb shits who'd rather stay, of course, but the rest have been moved to Valhalla. The defenses are set up and ready." Green looked at the retreating gunships. "Sir, can we order the Air Force to hit those birds?"

"No," said Warner. "I understand your anger, Colonel. But I won't risk our limited fighters on a revenge mission. We'll deal with the commandos later. Right now, we have an assload of Imps who're about to come knocking on our door."

He pointed to several unit icons advancing on the city's north. They were the 182nd Legion, the 501st Legion and the 41st Legion. Twenty-seven thousand troops in all, plus their vehicles and aircraft, versus the thirty-thousand-plus troops, vehicles and tanks stationed in the city. The UNSC had the numerical advantage for now, but Warner's thoughts turned to the Imperial reinforcements in orbit, and his face turned ugly. He knew that if it came down to a war of attrition, he'd lose. All he could hope for was that the task force from Fourth Fleet arrived in time to relieve some pressure.

00000


	5. Chapter 5

_"Death From Above"_

**Motto of the 19th Shock Troopers Battalion.**

**I-Day: 0830 hrs**

Tarkov thanked the Army artillery for granting him more than two hours instead of just one, and made a mental note to treat the Army personnel he met with a little more respect. In reality, he didn't know how long he could hold out. The 19th had one thousand men, versus the thirty-two-thousand-plus storm troopers of the 327th Star Corp. The ODSTs' only advantage was Oswald Pass, but it was a good advantage. The narrowness of the pass negated numbers and didn't cater well for the walkers that had become the staple of the Imperial Army.

Tarkov's XO, Captain Adam Coady, approached him. "Colonel, should we celebrate our victory now or later?"

"Ne igyál előre a medve bőrére," replied Tarkov, he said in their native Hungarian, meaning, "Don't count your chickens before they hatch."

Coady laughed. "I know, Colonel. But really, do they have any troops as good as us?"

Tarkov smiled slightly. "No."

Coady and Tarkov had been friends since they had joined the ODSTs during the Covenant War. They were used to fighting side by side, and observers regarded the two as inseparable. They were also good officers, having climbed up from the bottom.

"We should be attacking," Coady said. "A legjobb védekezés a támadás." Attack is the best defense.

"Come on, Adam. Even if we are the best, they outnumber us thirty-two to one. No, the pass is the best place, as I said to General Warner. Their walkers and tanks won't be effective in there. Look how much trouble the Army had with their vehicles." The Army artillery had passed Fort Green and the defending ODSTs on the way back to Asgard, having gone through the pass to do so.

Coady didn't argue further. Tarkov always had the last word, even with generals. "What about retreat?"

"Pardon?"

"We can make them retreat temporarily, but with their numbers they'll overwhelm us eventually. Where do we go?"

"Asgard, of course. Where else? In the end, that's where we'll have to go. They'll need us there eventually. And we don't forget to blow up the pass behind us."

"That'll slow them down."

000

Lance Corporal Heather Nicks was cold. That was OK; she was an ODST, and used to such minor discomforts. She was feeling a different chill, however. Through her sniper scope, she could see what seemed to be an endless line of storm troopers in yellow-emblazoned armor.

Her spotter, Corporal Eric Saunders used his binoculars to get a better look. "Holy shit. That's the Three-Two-Seven, alright. You can tell by all the yellow. Hey, they've brought a walker."

"I see it," Nicks confirmed. "Look at the markings on it, and the antennas. Definitely a command walker."

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Weird, though; I can't see any other vehicle."

"Would you bring a ton of armor into this pass, with us occupying it?" Nicks asked.

"Good point," Saunders conceded. "Base, this is Sierra-One-Two. Enemy troops are advancing."

_"Numbers?"_ asked Colonel Tarkov.

"Substantial. There's also a command walker. Wait, hold on a sec." Saunders zoomed in on something else. "You getting this, Base?"

_"Affirmative," _said Tarkov. _"It looks like the Imps have brought 2-M fighter tanks."_

The fighter tanks were much smaller than the Kodiak or even the Scorpion, but they still looked fierce, like fighter jets on the ground. And what they lacked in size and armor, they made up for with a big gun and the ability to go easily over rough terrain much faster than any tracked vehicle in the UNSC arsenal.

"I count three squads of four tanks. Uh, make that six squads. Orders, sir?"

_"Maintain your position for now. Do not reveal yourselves. Base out."_

000

Tarkov looked at Coady. "Twenty four fighter tanks. They'll overwhelm us quickly."

"We have enough ordnance," Coady said.

"We need _tanks_, not just rockets."

"I think that not even you can convince Colonel Green or General Warner to lend us tanks, not with three Imperial legions bearing down on him."

"That's nowhere near the number of troops about to bear down on _us_," Tarkov reminded him. "Get me through to Excalibur."

General Warner responded, looking less than pleased. _"I'm a little busy here, Emile."_

"It'll be busier here sir, I can guarantee you," Tarkov replied. He laid out what 19th Shock Battalion was facing. "We need armor to hold them off. Otherwise, they'll just trample us and hit your flanks, and then you'll be outnumbered two to one."

Warner disappeared for a while. When he came back, he said, _"Even if I could spare tanks, the ones that I can are all the way in Valhalla. They won't reach you in time. I _can_ give you plenty of air support, plus extra anti-materiel weapons."_

"What about the Army artillery that retreated past us?"

_"They've exhausted their ammo. I'm sorry, Colonel .I'm detailing three A-24 squadrons to support you. Their callsigns are Roundhouse, Cougar and Hammer. That's all for now, but if you need more support, I'll do my level best to give it to you. Good luck. Excalibur out."_

Tarkov had never heard Warner sound that humble. The man had only just realized what the Empire had in store for him. If he'd had his way, UNSC forces in the capital would have been encircled. "He shouldn't be in charge," he muttered, so that only Coady could hear him.

"But he is," Coady said. "And at least he listens. The air support is a nice gesture."

"I doubt it will be enough."

000

Commander Bly sat in the command walker, feeling like he was in a giant walking coffin. Of course, if anti-armor hit the thing, it would become exactly that. "Status on the enemy?"

"Nothing yet," said Captain CT-52/89-9204, AKA Tyto, the CO of Bacta Company, which would lead the charge. "But I'll bet all my rations that they're definitely taking time to set up a nice welcome for us."

"Safe bet," Bly agreed. "And why can't Command lend us air support again?"

"They're throwing as much as they can against the city."

"Right," Bly snorted. "Knowing perfectly well that _this_ is the critical part of the battle." It was uncharacteristic of Bly to criticize his superiors, but he'd always believed that such thoughts were simply a byproduct of his ARC training. "How far behind is the artillery?"

"We'll be fully engaged before they get here."

Bly snorted again. His pep speech aside, he was sure that the ODSTs would put up a furious defense. He'd not only heard about them, but he'd actually seen them in action. The UNSC had once used only five hundred ODSTs against a much larger CIS force during the Clone Wars, and the ODSTs had quickly overwhelmed the CIS forces, taking the planet before the Seps had realized what had happened. They'd struck him as efficient, skilled, experienced…and brutal.

There was no way that this would be over quickly.

000

"They did what?!" Secretary-General Alice Dennison had nearly shouted upon hearing the news.

Thanks to the distance between Harvest and Earth, messages took time to cross the vast distance, even with Forerunner tech. But now Dennison knew that the Empire had invaded the Colonies, and she was furious.

"There wasn't even a single warning!" she raged on. "Not a whisper. Now they invade one of _our_ colony worlds?!"

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd taken my advice," SecState said. "We shouldn't have offered shelter to the Jedi."

"Blame game?" said SecDef. "Really Chuck, that's a new low."

"It's the truth."

"I don't care," Dennison said. "Admiral Hood?"

Hood was on board a Marathon-Class cruiser in orbit. _"I've ordered the emergency mobilization of the entire UNSC as per your orders, ma'am."_

"How long until we can send reinforcements to the system?" SecDef asked.

_"A Fourth Fleet group, Task Force Four-Alpha, is already en route to Epsilon Indi under the command of Admiral Henry Paulson. But they're a small force compared to what the Empire has. They don't have the firepower to liberate the system. Third Fleet is still rebuilding itself. That'll take a few weeks to finish, even given the current situation. I'm afraid that the troops on Harvest will have to hold out as long as possible. But we do have some good news."_

"What's that?"

_"TF4A has significant…ground assets. They were a great help during the Covenant War and the Clone Wars."_

"ODSTs?"

_"Even better, ma'am. Spartans."_

"Spartans?" SecState repeated. "I thought that project was cancelled. Why the hell are they still around?"

Dennison wondered why she'd taken this man into her cabinet. Hood replied, _"Since we're at war with the Empire, I think it's a good thing that it _wasn't_ cancelled."_

"They're augmented super-freaks," State continued. "They're expensive, and they'll become a public embarrassment if word of the program leaks out. Pull them back."

It was as much a threat as anything else. The SPARTAN-II Program had broken several ethical barriers. That had been ignored in the face of the Covenant threat and later the Clone Wars. It also helped that details of the program had been classified several levels higher than top secret. SecState didn't know as much about the program as others did, but he knew enough to embarrass the government and ignite a firestorm of protest.

"That's treason you're contemplating there," SecDef said.

"I swear," the man continued, "lay a hand on me and all your dirty secrets come tumbling out."

"That's it," Dennison said. "Take him into custody," she said to her security detail.

"You'll regret this!" he shouted, as two burly men in suits dragged him away. The now former Secretary of State didn't know yet that they wouldn't; the laws regarding the secrecy of the SPARTAN program were very clear, and by threatening to break those laws he had actually threatened treason. The FSB would keep him under lock and key in a secure facility for a very long time.

"That's good riddance," SecDef said. "Now what?"

_"We prepare for war,"_ Hood said.

000

**I-Day: 0845 hrs**

"I see them," said Tarkov, using his HUD to zoom in. In the distance, several thousand storm troopers were milling about. Several 2-M tanks were also present, as was the command walker. All the Imperials were out of range of most weapons the ODSTs had.

Coady whistled. "We're in for a tough fight."

"Is the minefield in place?"

"Of course. The Army gave us plenty of time to do so."

Tarkov looked over the defenses his men had made. The ODSTs had put up vehicle barriers, anti-personnel and anti-armor mines, fixed Gauss turrets and machine gun nests, and even trenches. The trenches were actually filled with fuel and not to be used World War One-style; they were set up as a last-ditch defense in the event that the Imperials overwhelmed them and if the defenders needed a wall of fire to hold off their enemies. For the inevitable retreat, a large force of Warthogs and trucks were standing by to take the survivors to Asgard.

"Ready?" Coady asked.

"As ready as ever, friend." Like Coady and the rest of the 19th, Tarkov wore standard ODST armor with a yellow chest-plate and yellow markings typical of the battalion. Tarkov's was battered by time and battle, but it was fully functional. Under his chest-plate, as always, was the flag of the 19th Shock Battalion. At his side was the M7S SMG that he'd carried since his first battle.

Coady hefted a BR55HB Battle Rifle. An excellent shot, Coady didn't become a sniper because he failed the stalking portion of the course. He always said he preferred the battle rifle, however. "I'll watch your back. I don't think letting you get shot is a good way to earn a promotion."

"I bet you gave it some thought, eh?"

Coady grinned. "Maybe."

000

Bly also used his binocs to observe the ODST positions. "Mounted turrets, light AA guns—as if they need them—and sandbagged defensive positions. If they don't have more than that, then I'm a Wookiee."

"Well, you'll know soon enough, sir," said Captain Tyto. "B-Company is ready. So are Aurek and Chell Companies."

"Armor is ready as well. If only we had that stanging artillery here…" Bly broke off. "Launch the attack. Delta Company will give you mortar cover, and everyone else will be right behind you."

"Yes sir."

000

"Here they come!" shouted Sergeant Neil Smith. He and his squad polarized their visors and aimed at the advancing Imperial troops. Like the 19th, the 327th's signature color appeared to be yellow. It was an interesting detail, a detail that Smith soon forgot as another threat represented itself.

Whistling overhead, the mortar round hit directly onto an MG nest. The screams indicated that someone was still alive, but that was the medics' concern. Other mortar rounds began striking the ODSTs' positions, shaking the earth and scattering snow everywhere.

The ODSTs responded quickly. Soon, their own mortar rounds were landing on the places where the Imperial mortar fire was coming from. The Imperial fire slowed and stopped, and the ODSTs turned their attention to the charging troopers.

The troopers were well within sniper and battle rifle range, and the sharp cracks of rifle fire echoed off the cliffs. Storm troopers fell, but others surged forward to take their place. Soon, the storm troopers were within assault rifle range, and the battle was joined.

Smith aimed at a trooper that was firing on full auto, charging his position. A three-round burst connected with the trooper's helmet, knocking him back. Another trooper next to him was cut down by one of Smith's comrades. Another Imperial appeared to take his fallen comrade's place and was cut down by Smith's squad. It became immediately apparent that the narrow pass was funneling the larger Imperial force into a place where they were tightly packed. The mounted MG turrets were having a field day. There were more than enough targets. The snow was turning red with all the blood, and the Imperial assault faltered.

000

Bly grimaced as he watched the battle from afar. "We're being slaughtered," he said to his second-in-command, Commander Deviss.

"We can't challenge them in that narrow area," Deviss said. "Advise that we pull back, sir."

"Agreed."

000

Just as quickly as the assault began, so it ended. Under cover of mortar fire, the Imperials retreated back to their starting positions, leaving more than fifty dead, and twelve tanks shattered.

"That was quick," Coady said. He'd killed at least four storm troopers.

"Yes it was," agreed Tarkov. The Imperials hadn't gotten close enough for him to use his M7S, which disappointed him. "But this is just a start. What are our casualties?"

Coady was silent as the reports came in from all the different squads. "Twelve dead, eighteen wounded. Four of the wounded are in serious condition."

"Call the medevac people and tell them to take the wounded back to the fort. They'll stay there until it's time to retreat to the capital."

"Yes sir."

000

Bly watched as a wounded Tyto limped towards him. "We—we couldn't get past them, sir."

"You did a fine job, Captain," Bly said soothingly. "Go on. The medics are waiting for you and your men."

"What about…" he pointed to the distinctly bloody patch of snow where nearly half his company lay dead.

"We'll retrieve the dead after we defeat the ODSTs," Bly assured him. "Go to the medics, Captain. That's an order."

Tyto did so, but only after most of his remaining men went. Deviss looked at his commander. "We have to try something different."

"Like what?" Bly asked.

"Go around them. Use gunships to hit them from behind."

"You know Command won't give us gunships while the attack on the enemy's capital is underway."

"What else _can_ we do?" said Deviss, clearly frustrated. "Time is on their side. Right now, the UNSC forces in their capital match the strength of the attacking legions. Only if we get through the pass will an Imperial victory be assured. They know that they don't have to attack. All they have to do is wait until their forces push ours back and send reinforcements that might very well encircle _us_."

"You forgot one thing, Commander."

"What's that, sir?"

Bly smiled. "Our artillery. They'll be here soon. Once they're in position, we'll hammer the ODSTs and then we'll sweep them out of the pass."

000

**I-Day; 0900 hrs**

Coady approached Tarkov. "The Empire is beginning their attack on the capital." It went without saying. Even from this distance Tarkov could hear the dull thunder of artillery.

"How does the battle go for our friends in the Army?"

"They're holding out well. The Imperials have only reached the outskirts so far."

"You can't say the same for us though, eh?" Tarkov looked at the distant Imperial positions. "They haven't attacked again."

"We gave them a good smack on the nose. Not hard to understand why they're hesitant."

"No, it isn't that," Tarkov disagreed. "They're waiting for something."

"What?"

Tarkov looked at his friend. "Haven't you noticed that they haven't used artillery yet? They're waiting for their artillery to get into position. Then they'll hammer us until we leave, or they'll charge us if we stay."

"Speaking of hammers, sir…" Coady pointed to the sky. "Remember the A-24s?"

"Ah. I'd nearly forgotten."

"Let them try to use their artillery. We'll call in an airstrike and wipe them out."

"The A-24s aren't here yet." Tarkov said.

"By the time the Empire uses its artillery, they will be."

000

In Asgard, things were in a much better shape than in Oswald Pass. That didn't stop the ground from shaking. The roar of tank fire and artillery sounded like thunder and lightning, and the screaming of fighters overhead added to the cacophony.

"How're we doing, Colonel?" Warner asked.

"We're holding out well, sir," said Green. "We're not using as many troops as I thought we would. The Rangers are pretty much doing nothing." He referred to the 77th Ranger Battalion.

Warner knew where this was going. "You want to send reinforcements to Oswald Pass."

"Yes sir. The critical battle is there, not here, no matter what the Empire wants us to think. We have the armor to hold off a numerically superior force. The ODSTs do not. At least send some Scorpions to the pass if we can't lend our Kodiaks."

"Tanks won't get there fast enough," said Warner. "And I won't risk our dropships getting shot down with armor in them. No, we'll send Cougars." The Cougar was the UNSC's signature IFV, or Infantry Fighting Vehicle.

"And the Rangers?"

"They'll travel in the Cougars. Thirty Cougars ought to be enough, don't you?"

Green did the math. Thirty Cougars carrying ten soldiers each meant three hundred Rangers would be joining the ODSTs. That was a significant chunk of the fiteen hundred Rangers of the 77th. Warner was finally realizing that keeping Asgard in UNSC hands was entirely dependent on whatever happened in Oswald Pass. The question was whether it was too late.

00000


	6. Chapter 6

_"Judgment from the Heavens."_

**A-24 Berkut squadron's motto.**

**I-Day: 1000 hrs**

Marshal Commander Bow of the 501st Legion, 300th Shock Corps, observed the holographic map. ITF Saber's ground base was up and running, but only a fraction of the task force's troops had made it to the surface. Nearly all of those troops were engaged in two battles. It was actually meant to be one battle, the battle to decide who kept the capital. The entire plan was Bow's brainchild, but the main component was being delayed. The 327th was unable to break through the defenses set up by the ODSTs in Oswald Pass, despite Commander Bly's best efforts. Without the 327th, the Imperial assault would be doomed; the UNSC forces were more than capable of holding off the four attacking Legions that were assaulting Asgard.

"How goes the battle?" asked Admiral Yularen.

"Not good, sir," Bow replied. "These enemy shock troopers are holding off the 327th. If Commander Bly is unable to break through, we may have to call off the assault."

"Tell me what you need, and I'll grant it to you."

"Everything that is needed is already in place, sir, save for air support. The 327th could use gunship support against the ODSTs: cut through them like a bloodcarver."

"And supposing that the enemy also has air units in the vicinity? The gunships will be vulnerable. Not to mention that the enemy most likely has anti-air weapons."

"Then give me some 170s to cover the gunships, sir. Opening up the pass is critical. Without a clear path, the capital will be lost to us. Time is short, Admiral."

Yularen realized that Bow was right. If Asgard was to belong to the Empire before noon that day, then the ODSTs had to be wiped out. "I'm giving you full access to ITF Saber's resources, Commander. Give me that capital."

000

In truth, most of ITF Saber's resources were limited at this point; much of the fleet was still on the lookout for the UNSC Navy, and the naval commanders were highly unwilling to lend their fighters. In the end, though, ten squadrons of ARC-170s—thirty fighters in all—were dispatched to the pass.

In the skies, however, the UNSC Air Force was on the lookout. An E-709 Kirpan, the AWACS version of the C-709 Longsword, detected all the incoming 170s. The crew passed the info on to Command, and continued to track them.

Command responded by sending four squadrons of F-151 Peregrine fighter jets. The Peregrine was a multi-role fighter, created by Norton Aeronautics to be an aircraft best suited for local defense. The Peregrine's swept-forward wing design allowed it to pull off amazingly agile maneuvers and it was able to carry a large load of missiles. For this mission, the Peregrines were outfitted with four AIM-12 Bullseye air-to-air missiles and three MRM-10 Lynx missiles, the latter of which could be used against any kind of target. The cannon was powerful, but only to be used as a last resort.

The Peregrines operated in squadrons of four, and their immense ordnance capability allowed them to engage numerically superior forces as if in an equal fight, which had been Norton Aeronautics' aim.

Captain Derek Corbin was leading the attack. His squadron, Dragon Flight, was comprised of Clone War veterans who'd taken the Peregrines to battle when the CIS had raided Harvest and dragged the UN into the war. Skies were clear and blue, save for the smoke rising from the capital and Oswald Pass. Everyone in the squadron had agreed that it was one hell of a way to start the morning.

_"Dragon Flight, be advised enemy fighters are moving to engage you,"_ said the E-709, which carried the callsign of "Odin".

"Copy that, Odin," said Corbin. He flicked a switch, arming his missiles. The E-709's powerful radar illuminated the incoming ARC-170s, which appeared as a large blob on Corbin's HUD. "So many…" he said to himself.

The ARC-170s had powerful radar of their own, and they could surely see the Air Force's response to their incursion. Many of the Imperial pilots now were non-clones, and they were probably laughing their asses off at the sight of sixteen fighters that were supposed to fend off thirty of their powerful craft.

_"Dragon Flight, be advised that the enemy is increasing speed. They'll be on top of you at any second. Engage at will."_

"Copy, Odin," said Corbin. What the Peregrines had over the ARC-170s was the range at which the former could engage. At this point, the 170s had to get in closer to lock on, but they were well within the UNSC fighters' missile range. Corbin locked onto one of the lead fighters. "Fox Three, Fox Three, missile away," he said as he squeezed the trigger.

The Bullseye missiles streaked towards their targets, the E-709 helping with the targeting. Before the Imperials knew what was going on, sixteen missiles struck their formation.

000

Imperial ARC-170 pilot Captain Darien Yage knew he'd been locked onto by a missile, but he'd been reasonably sure that the 170 could dodge it. He had not expected the missiles to be so fast, and he most certainly did not expect them to be as powerful as they were.

In fact, the only thing that saved him was the heavy armor of the 170 itself. Yage, using skills honed in combat against droid starfighters, reacted quickly before the missile was within visual range. By the time he'd actually moved his control stick, the missiles were in visual range and as he turned sharply, they reached their targets.

The missiles detonated with enormous force. Most had impacted directly on their targets, obliterating them. The only surviving target was Yage himself; the missile meant for him had detonated only a few meters away from his fighter, blasting away heavy armor-plate that gave the ARC-170 its famous durability. Nevertheless, his number two engine was damaged, and he was trailing smoke.

"Increase speed and engage those fighters!" Yage yelled into his com. The offending fighter streaked past him, and Yage noted that the tail designation marked it as a squadron leader.

000

_"No joy, Dragon Lead,"_ Odin reported.

"Damn," Corbin muttered. He attempted to find his target again, but by this time both the Imperials and the Air Force fighters were right on top of each other in what was called a "furball", with dozens of fighters maneuvering tightly to engage their targets.

It was here that the swept-forward wing design of the F-151 Peregrine truly came into play. Allowing the fighter to have 45 degree attack angles, the wing design also allowed for high maneuverability in dogfight scenarios. That was why the Peregrines were now outmaneuvering the heavier and larger ARC-170s, shooting down many before they had a chance to dodge.

The Imperials, for their part, were no pushovers. Trained and experienced, several senior pilots had shot down five Peregrines. But that was all they got. The Peregrines were much too maneuverable to engage in such a situation, and Imperial 170s started dropping out of the sky.

000

Captain Yage had started to realize that he was in a bad situation. Despite the fact that he'd shot down two enemy fighters, his men couldn't seem to replicate his success as well as he, and he couldn't find the enemy commander's fighter. There was no way that he'd be able to support the 327th with ARC-170s. They needed V-Wing interceptors; they were the only Imperial craft capable of matching the Peregrine's maneuvers. He shot down one more fighter, then he tapped his com. "All Imperial units: retreat. Now!"

000

The Empire had started the battle with thirty fighters. They retreated with ten. It was a testament to the skills of the Air Force pilots, but they hadn't gotten off easy. Of their sixteen fighters, only nine were left. Still, it was a victory: the Imperial aircraft wouldn't be able to support their ground troops, and they had certainly learned to take the Air Force seriously. Corbin was satisfied, but worried for the men who'd been shot down. He'd spotted at least five chutes drifting towards the ground. He radioed Command.

_"Excellent work, son,"_ said General Warner. _"We'll send out rescue teams ASAP. Your relief will be on station in a few minutes. When they arrive, return to base. Command out."_

Warner was learning fast, Corbin realized. He silently thanked the general for the opportunity to guard his men.

000

In Oswald Pass, Colonel Tarkov and his ODSTs were not very much concerned about the battle that had taken place above their heads, instead concentrating on the battle that was upon them. The Imperial artillery had arrived was shelling their positions, inflicting heavy casualties. And during the considerable time that Imperial fighters were overhead, LAAT/i gunships had strafed them, inflicting even more casualties. To top it all off, the Imperial commander had decided that this was the time to initiate an infantry assault.

The ODSTs weren't budging, however. Several shattered tanks and the bodies of dozens of storm troopers littered the landscape. The smoke rising from the destroyed Imperial tanks was providing a makeshift smokescreen against the artillery spotters, who weren't able to precisely target the ODSTs' positions. The fuel in the trenches had been set alight, providing an additional screen of smoke and fire. Despite this, Tarkov had realized that this was the last assault his men would be able to repel on their own…if they even managed to repel it. "Where are those Army Rangers?"

"Less than a minute out," said Captain Coady, who was down to his pistol. "They left their IFVs at the fort and are coming in on foot."

Scarcely had he said this when the Rangers made their appearance. The Rangers' gear was almost identical to the ODSTs, save for camo; while the ODSTs' armor was black and grey, the Rangers' had opted for ACU camo and their visors were gold when polarized, as opposed to the ODSTs' silver. One of them, holding an MA4A Carbine, ran up to Coady and Tarkov. "Major Erin Crespo, sir. We heard you needed help. I didn't believe it at first."

Coady grimaced. ODSTs balked at the thought of being rescued; they felt that it should always be the other way around. "Yeah, well, we felt that it was rude to let us have all the fun, ma'am."

"I'm assuming you'll want that assault out of the way before we get the hell out of Dodge," Crespo said. "We'll help you. Then we leave."

The Rangers were already moving up. The ODSTs at this point were so strung out that they didn't seem too displeased at finding Army soldiers in their foxholes next to them. They let the Rangers do the heavy lifting, and the Rangers obliged.

The Imperials were stymied by the sudden UNSC reinforcements. They charged nonetheless, and the combined UNSC forces gave everything they had, no longer worrying about conserving ammo. Tarkov called upon the A-24s, ordering them to use every bit of ordnance they had.

000

The A-24 Berkut (Russian for Golden Eagle) was a heavily armored flying tank destroyer. Armed with two Gauss guns, a 30mm cannon, AGM-134 Scorpion anti-tank missiles and CBU-882 anti-personnel cluster bombs, it was the UNSC Air Force's primary weapon against ground troops and armor. Three A-24s working together could stop a battalion in its tracks. Warner had sent nine, and with the threat of Imperial fighters now gone, the Berkut pilots gladly started their attack run.

Commander Bly was becoming painfully aware of this fact. Having believed that friendly aircraft had secured the skies, he'd become emboldened and decided to finish the battle. It was only later that Command had gotten back to him, telling him that the fighters that were supposed to cover his troops were actually on the run from enemy Air Force units.

Now, the A-24s he'd only heard about in intel briefings were making their appearance. It was a sight that was terrifying and awe-inspiring to behold, as hundreds of cluster bombs and dozens of missiles rained down on Bly's forces. Gauss rounds and missiles sliced through his tanks and artillery pieces. 30mm rounds and cluster bombs turned his infantry advance into mincemeat. The same 30mm rounds tore his gunships to pieces.

One A-24 made a beeline for Bly's command walker, its jet engines screaming and cannons blazing. Bly was standing on top of the walker, and only just managed to leap off. The walker exploded, taking several troopers with it. The explosion narrowly missed Bly, who dived behind a series of crates, dragging a stunned storm trooper with him.

The Air Force's attack, as devastating as it was, had only been a distraction. While the 327th was being hammered, the ODSTs and the Rangers had retreated back through the pass. Explosives set beforehand triggered a rockslide that blocked the pass behind them, a barrier that the Imperials would have to go through. Without further incident, the UNSC forces retreated towards Asgard.

000

Bly looked around. All he could see was death and destruction. "Report!" he shouted.

"Commander Nuren here," said Commander Deviss's second in command. The man walked towards him, covered in soot and blood.

"Where's Deviss?" Bly asked.

"Dead."

Bly let that sink in before asking, "Casualties?"

Nuren paused before answering. "Hard to say, sir. But it looks like we have at least two hundred dead. No figures on the wounded yet."

Bly didn't say anything at first. "The enemy?"

"Retreated while we were being slaughtered. Scouts report that they blocked the pass. There are also unexploded cluster bombs that are posing a threat to our troops. We can't advance until the EOD teams clear the area."

Bly let loose a stream of curses that would have made the surliest dockhand blush and startled Nuren. "Any trooper with a back-pack com, report to my position immediately."

Tyto responded, holding a back-pack com. "The owner was killed," he said. He was still limping, using a broken DC-15 as a crutch. "But it still works."

"Contact Command."

000

"Understood, Commander," Bow said, ending the transmission. He looked at Admiral Yularen.

"What is it?" the Admiral asked.

"The UNSC saved their deadliest assets for the last, sir," said Bow. "Enemy ground-attack aircraft did a number on the 327th. Heavy casualties, and Bly's executive officer was killed. The enemy's unexploded cluster bombs are posing a threat to their advance, and to top it all off the enemy blocked off the pass."

Yularen looked like he wanted to curse, but retained the posture of a dignified Imperial Navy officer. Nevertheless, he was pale with anger. "The attack on the capital?"

"Faltering," Bow said. "The UNSC's defensive positions are simply too good, and we don't have the numbers yet."

"Order all units to retreat," Yularen said. "We'll think of another way to take the capital tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

000

**I-Day: 1604 hrs**

By the time the Rangers and the ODSTs had gotten back to the city, the Imperials were in full retreat. The morale of the UNSC troops soared, despite the fact that several sections of the eastern sector of the city were devastated.

Warner looked like he'd aged several years in a few hours. His staff looked the same. Yet Command now had an atmosphere of quiet satisfaction. The UNSC had always had the advantage on the ground, and the Empire had been reminded of that fact.

Warner looked up as Colonel Tarkov and Major Crespo entered. "Damn good job, Colonel. Damn good job. You too, Major."

"It is what we do," Tarkov said. "Thank you for the reinforcements and air support."

"Thank Colonel Green for the reinforcements, Emile. I just send in the A-24s."

Tarkov shook hands with Green. "You save me again, I might actually owe you one," said Tarkov quietly, at which Green laughed.

Crespo looked at Warner. "What now, sir?"

Warner looked at the holographic map again. "Well, the Empire thinks that it's gonna lick its wounds and be ready for another round tomorrow. I disagree." He looked at the Air Force attaché. "Tell the bombers that we have a target for them."

The attaché nodded and left. Warner wasn't done yet. "Emile, normally I'd ask you to do this, but you've done enough for today. So I've already ordered NAVSPECWAR to initiate strikes against Imperial ARC and commando patrols."

"I'm not going to argue," said Tarkov. "It's time the Navy let its commandos do their job."

"We will," said Lieutenant Commander John Barclay, who emerged from a corner of the room.

"How's that?" asked Tarkov. "I assume the Navy has a plan."

Barclay pointed to a city several miles north-east of Oswald Pass. "We've received reports that Imperial commando and ARC units are in New Oslo, searching for something. My orders are to make sure they don't find it."

"What are they searching for?"

Barclay shrugged. "I have no bloody clue. My superiors just told me to stop them from finding whatever it is they want to find. There are about forty of them and forty of us, so it should make for an interesting battle. Of course, we don't know what support they'll have. But considering that fleet, it could be a battalion of walkers."

"I'm not so sure," said Colonel Green. "When those commandos assaulted the artillery at Brier's Ridge, they got some gunship support, but only to get the hell out of there before our Rhino crews filleted them. The Empire doesn't seem to put much stock in special forces."

"They still seem to know how to use them," said Barclay. "Took out our generators right quick. I'd wager they still have a few officers who remember the Clone Wars, instead of the muppets that they're bringing in now."

"How do you want to do this, John?" asked Warner.

"Well sir, I'd like to hit these three sectors first. They're concentrated there. We'll come in by Peli—I mean Goshawks, forgot we replaced the Pelican—and strike fast. Then I'd like the Rangers to come in with their Cougars to secure the city. At least three hundred to four hundred Rangers should round it off nicely. Our goal isn't just to deny the city to the Empire. It's also to deal a serious blow to their commandos' operating abilities, and that includes denial of personnel."

"You want to kill or capture as many as you can," said Tarkov.

"Precisely, sir. Our backs are to the wall right now. The last thing we need is a couple of bloody saboteurs mucking up our equipment…or stealing it, for that matter."

Green frowned. "Where's the ONI base commander?"

Barclay paused as he accessed his HUD. "Overseeing the setting of charges at Alpha Site."

Green looked at a CCTV screen looking at ONI's Alpha Site. "I'm guessing that convoy outside your bosses' workplace is full of explosives and the men who'll set them."

Barclay looked over Green's shoulder, wearing a look of mild surprise that seemed genuine. "Hm. I'd guess so. I'm not privy to that part of the operation."

"Of _course_ not," said Captain Coady. Barclay gave him a scornful look.

"We follow orders, just like you," the Navy commando replied. "I don't question them. About the Ranger reinforcements…"

Major Crespo spoke up. "I'll do it. My people are ready."

"OK," Warner said. "Do it."

000

_"Fortes Fortuna Juvat" (Fortune Favors the Bold)_

**Motto of the UNSC Navy's Commando Group**

**I-Day: 1900 hrs**

New Oslo was small for a city. Harvestians often said that it was really a large town, and that nothing of interest happened there. Still, it seemed important enough for ONI to have a facility, and Captain Beta's orders were to find out why.

It would have been a lot easier if he knew what exactly he was after, but it seemed that Imperial Intelligence didn't know anything about the facility other than the fact that it was in the city. No large feat, considering the place was clearly marked. It was a squat, obsidian building, with the ONI symbol of the eagle's eye observing the area in front of it.

Beta's practiced eyes ran over the area. There were a lot of defenses set up: turrets, barricades, sandbags. But there was no sign of any human presence. The place seemed deserted. There was nothing save the flickering lights that illuminated the area, but even the lights seemed to only accentuate the darkness. Add that the sun was setting in a fiery red glow behind the ONI building, and the overall effect was very haunting.

"I'm not superstitious," said Lieutenant Niles, Beta's XO. "But this place gives me the creeps. An actual ghost town."

"Mm," said Beta. "I'm guessing that's what they were going for."

"But why abandon the defenses?" Niles asked. "This place has to be important to them, or else why bother having it at all?"

"Maybe it is important, maybe it isn't," said Beta. "Maybe it's a clever decoy. But it doesn't matter. We have our orders, and our orders are to secure this facility."

"Yes sir."

A UNSC jet screamed overhead, and the ten-man ARC squad instinctively ducked. The rest of the forty-man team was patrolling the sector, making sure no remaining UNSC forces were waiting in ambush and also to secure the area in case they came in force. The fighter presence was a reminder that the ARCs were deep behind enemy lines, with little or no support. Command wouldn't even lend them gunships for this mission. It seemed that they never learned.

000

The fighter jet wasn't armed for taking out ground targets at that moment. This was an E/A-32 Talwar Electronic Warfare plane, the EW variant of the Navy's F/A-32 Spatha. Right now, its mission was to observe the ARCs, jam their long-range communications and make sure that the ARCs knew it was there; fighter presence meant that the Empire wouldn't risk their gunships, and with the air battle over Oswald Pass fresh in their memory they weren't likely to send fighters after the Talwar. The Talwar was armed for air-to-air combat, and if pressed it could fight. The main reason was that it looked and sounded like a fighter, and that scared the enemy. That was why Command had opted for the Talwar instead of the E-709 for this mission.

The Talwar's pilot and co-pilot marked the positions of every single ARC they could see. Their count ended at thirty, meaning that either the initial count of forty was wrong or that the rest were in buildings. It was enough information for Lt. Cmdr. Barclay, who ordered the commencement of Operation Silent Overwatch.

Four MD79-TCI Knight Hawks, the special forces versions of the D79-TCI Goshawk, made their way towards New Oslo, carrying forty Navy Commandos. Behind them on the ground rolled thirty M184C Cougar IFVs carrying three hundred Army Rangers. The ARCs didn't know it yet, but they were about to be overwhelmed. However, the UNSC forces weren't facing run-of-the-mill operators.

000

"Hear that?" said Niles, looking up at the sky.

Beta listened too. At first he thought it was the jet again, but he noticed that the pitch of the engines was different. And it appeared that there were multiple sources of the sound. "Yeah, I hear it Niles."

"What do you think?"

Beta checked his DC-15A to make sure it was fully operational. "We've got trouble."

000

The Knight Hawks were numbered in odd numbers to confuse enemies. Thus the Knight Hawks designated for this mission had the call-signs Knight Hawk-One, Knight Hawk-Three, Knight Hawk-Five and Knight Hawk-Seven. It was something that was easily caught onto, but the moments of confusion could turn a battle.

The four Knight Hawks descended upon New Oslo. The Knight Hawk was coated in stealth paint and its color scheme made it hard to see at night. Coupled with the fact that its engines were muffled to prevent the dropship's noise from alerting enemies early, and one could understand that Niles only heard the Knight Hawks coming in only when they were already well within their sector.

KH-05 was in the lead. Her destination was the air-pad on top of Beta Site. From there, Golf and Hotel Squad would make their way down to the front of the building, where plenty of defenses were set up. At least, that had been the plan.

000

ARC trooper B-21, also known as "Boomer", gained his nickname for his innate skill with explosives. He was also an artist with a PLEX missile launcher. That was a bad thing for KH-05, who was well within Boomer's range. He sighted on the target and pulled the trigger.

000

In KH-05, Senior Chief Petty Officer Patrick Kelly prepared to lead Team 45 into Beta Site. Behind him and under his command was Team 46, lead by Chief Petty Officer Vladimir Puchenko. Together, the ten men were sure that they could hold off the ARCs until the Ranger reinforcements arrived.

The Knight Hawk made its approach and opened the hatch, when an alarm started blaring in the cockpit. "We've been locked onto!" the pilot shouted. "Shit! Incoming!"

The PLEX missile slammed into the Knight Hawk's tail thrusters with astounding force, sending it spinning. What had been a smooth landing approach now became a wild spiral. The pilot attempted to regain control, but the Hawk pancaked onto the roof, smoking.

Kelly got up, jarred but OK. "Vlad! You OK?" he shouted.

"Da," came the reply. The man looked at his carbine, which was bent out of shape. He shrugged and pulled out his pistol.

"Sound off!"

It turned out that two commandos had been killed in the crash, as well as both pilots. Three commandos were injured. Of those three, one was in critical condition. The other two were still able to fight.

"What now?" Puchenko asked.

"We protect the facility. Smith, Jonesy," he said addressing the two injured men, "Take Jacobs to the infirmary. Should be on the fourth floor. Everyone else, on me."

The seven remaining commandos made their way down the stairs. It was slow going; the three injured commandos just couldn't keep up. Eventually, one said, "Sir, we're slowing you down. We'll set up in the lobby."

"OK," said Kelly. The group finally made it to the lobby, where they were surprised to find that they weren't the only occupants.

000

At the Imperial ground base, General Uric Blim watched as Imperial transports delivered hundreds of storm troopers to the ground base, which was designated as Saber Base. Despite the fact that Marshal Commander Bow was actually the more experienced commander, as a natural-born human Blim was promoted over the clone, a fact that he routinely rubbed in Bow's face. His aide was an up-and-rising officer named Maximilian Veers, an armor commander who showed considerably more respect for Bow but did not show it openly in front of Blim.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Blim said, watching the ranks of storm troopers march from their ships. Others built barracks, supply depots, and an air base to put fighters. "Complete order. Like a well-oiled machine. That is what the Empire should be. These clones are perfect to be part of that machine. But there must be those who manage the machine, and those cannot be clones. Don't you agree, Captain Veers?

"Of course, sir," Veers replied. His actual thoughts were quite the opposite. Blim was a fool, and Bow knew it. Only Yularen had stopped the clone commander from shooting Blim outright when the latter mocked Bow for failing to take Asgard. "Sir, wouldn't it be wise for us to start air patrols? The enemy's air units have effective control of the sky."

"Please," Blim scoffed. "They were simply lucky today morning. Clone incompetence. No, I doubt they would attack such a highly fortified target as this. They are cowardly and weak."

Veers decided not to mention that each pilot that was involved in the morning's air battle had not been a clone, and that the UNSC was far from cowardly and weak. Blim had gotten his position by virtue of being born rich to a Governor who'd made a large contribution to the Empire. He knew nothing of battles save what he saw in propaganda holovids. Veers was not going to press the issue of fighter support. There were several V-Wings sitting on parts of the newly built air base, and with luck they would be enough. Veers's concern was armor.

The All-Terrain-Tactical Enforcer, or the AT-TE as it was more commonly known, was a staple of the Grand Army and its successor, the Imperial Army. Its slow plodding pace made it much slower than most tanks, but it was perfect for supplementing an infantry assault. Heavy armor combined with heavy guns made it a very formidable machine. It could even scale vertical cliffs. But even all these things paled in comparison for what Veers had in mind.

Towering at over twenty-two meters in height and twenty meters in length, bristling with weapons and covered in thick armor, the All-Terrain-Armored-Transport Mark One was a Clone War design that was being revived to replace the AT-TE. It could deploy up to forty soldiers in combat situations and was virtually immune to small arms fire. It was perfect for an armor assault on a fortified location, which was what Asgard was. Veers believed that this would give the Empire the edge in the next battle. So did Blim; at his insistence, forty of the prototype walkers had been deployed, with the remaining ten safe in orbit.

An officer ran up to them. "Sir, we're detecting several large aircraft approaching from the southwest."

"Deploy the V-Wings," Veers said.

Blim overrode him. "No. Our defenses will rip them apart. Let them try."

000

The B-709 Xiphos was a dedicated bomber version of the C-709 Longsword. With its cannons replaced with optics and an increase in space for additional bombs, the Xiphos could deliver several tons of bombs onto any target. However, the Xiphos was vulnerable, which explained the F-151 Peregrine escorts. The bomber squadron's target was the new Imperial ground base.

They weren't alone. Skimming below radar ahead of the bomber wave were several A-24 Berkuts. Their job was to Wild Weasel their way into the Imperial anti-air defense grid, smashing any weapon that could be used against the B-709s. Overseeing the operation was the E-709 "Odin", whose crew was riding high on the success of the morning's air battle. They fully expected this attack to succeed.

000

"When will the bombers arrive?" Blim asked pleasantly.

"Within ten minutes, sir," the officer replied.

"Good. Fetch me a pair of binocs, will you? I'd like to see those bombers ripped apart by our defenses."

The officer retrieved one and gave it to Blim just as a panicked message came over the com. _"Alert! Alert! Alert! Incoming enemy air craft!!!"_

"What?!" Blim shouted. "They're not supposed to arrive for another ten minutes!!!"

Veers analyzed the report. "It isn't the bombers. Ground attack planes, the same type that decimated the 327th. They flew in under radar level. Stang, there are so many…"

Veers didn't get a chance to continue. With amazing agility the A-24s roared in cannons blazing, targeting the anti-air weapons first. Three strafed the air base with bombs and cannon fire, tearing apart the V-Wings sitting there. One screamed right over Blim, whose cap was blown off.

"Get to cover!" Veers shouted, trying to drag Blim onto a speeder. The only way to survive was to get inside one of the parked assault ships and get the general to activate their weapons.

"Never!" Blim shouted, shoving Veers away. "I will not run from these insignificant vermin!"

"As you wish," Veers muttered. He mounted the speeder and sped away.

Just in time, it appeared. An A-24 fired at a communications center that happened to be right next to where Blim was standing. A stray cannon round sliced the unfortunate man in half before the rest slammed into the com center. The center exploded, taking Blim's remains with it. Veers wouldn't mourn him.

It wasn't over. While the Imperials scattered to try and deal with the A-24s, the B-709s arrived on station. Opening their vast bay doors, they proceeded to drop their bombs onto the base, unheeding of the now silent anti-air defenses. Heavy bombs, guided to their targets by lasers, struck true, annihilating everything they touched. One assault ship, the _019_, was directly in the way of the bombs. More than half struck the defenseless ship, piercing the armor and exploding inside. The assault ship was severely damaged, and exploded mere moments after a bomb damaged its main reactor. The hull crumpled in on itself, taking with it several thousand soldiers and crew. The shockwave nearly knocked Veers off his speeder, but the colonel stayed on and made for the bay of _Majestic_. From her hangar bays, old V-19 Torrent fighters started to launch a belated counter attack. When Veers reached the loading ramp, he saw Commander Gett standing at the bottom, directing emergency crews towards the destroyed assault ship. "Commander! Activate the defenses!"

"Yes sir," said Gett. "Where's General Blim?"

"Dead."

"I take it that means Commander Bow is in command now?" Gett didn't seem too shaken up about Blim's death.

"Yes."

"Good, then. Commander Bow ordered the activation of our defenses ten minutes ago. We've managed to shoot down two of the bombers and five of the ground-attack fighters. But the rest are gone."

Veers remembered something. "Where's the ARC company?"

"Fighting in New Oslo. But we can't get through to them. The UNSC is jamming their communications, and our main communications tower is gone."

"Recall the V-19s and redirect them to take out the jamming aircraft," Veers said. "Then send in gunships to extract the ARCs."

"Yes sir."

Veers turned…and then he saw a heart-breaking sight.

Of the forty AT-ATs that had been deployed, only four were left standing. The rest were in irreparable shape. Of the four survivors, two appeared to be heavily damaged. It was a heavy loss. Even with the additional ten that were in orbit, the assault on Asgard would be much harder than it would have been. Veers tore his gaze away and began the hard work of putting the base back together again.

000

Lieutenant Harold Albright knew his leg was busted up good, but not as busted as his Berkut. The A-24 had taken a round to the right wing, and Albright had only just managed to guide down his wounded bird into a not-quite-controlled crash. The good news was that he was alive. The bad news was that his bird had gone down in the middle of the enemy encampment. And with a busted leg, he had no hope of escape.

Before long, a patrol of storm troopers approached the downed fighter cautiously. Albright knew that the Republic had taken prisoners, but he didn't know if the rules had changed since the rise of the Empire. Should he surrender or go out fighting? He had an M6G pistol with eight rounds in the clip, plus two more magazines. Besides that, he had a survival knife. There were no other weapons. He could play dead. But clones weren't stupid.

One storm trooper approached the cockpit. Albright immediately decided to play dead; there was nothing to lose, after all. But just as he suspected, the clone wasn't stupid. "We've got a live one here, Sarge!" he shouted to someone Albright couldn't see.

"Open it up," said another storm trooper, obviously the Sergeant.

Two troopers pried open the cockpit. Albright didn't even bother going for his pistol, which was quickly yanked out of its holster by the first trooper. The other trooper took his knife, and noticed Albright's leg. "His leg looks broken, Sarge."

"Well, that's good. He won't run." The Sergeant finally appeared. His armor was marked no different than the others, but from the way he carried himself Albright could tell that this man wasn't a Private. He looked at his men. "Command says they'll take this one. Get some cutting tools, troopers. We're taking him out." He looked at the pilot. "Care to tell your name?"

Albright opened his mouth and said exactly what he'd been trained to say in such a situation. "Albright, Harold. Lieutenant, UNSC Air Force. Service ID 99103-47291-HA."

"Lieutenant, eh? An officer is a decent catch." He leaned closer, and Albright could see that his armor was covered in blue markings, a clear indication that the pilot had just been discovered by the men of the 501st Legion. "I assume you won't want to say anything else."

"Albright, Harold. Lieutenant, UNSC Air Force. Service ID 99103-47291-HA."

"Oh, that's all you'll say now. But once the interrogators get a hold of you, you'll spill everything. So it's best you say everything now, before the pain they inflict forces you."

"Albright, Harold. Lieutenant, UNSC Air Force. Service ID 99103-47291-HA."

"Right," said the Sergeant, clearly amused. "Alright troopers, let's get this one out."

Before they even began trying to cut him out, Albright fainted, fully believing that this would be the last painless sleep he'd encounter.

000

Kelly was briefly dumbfounded. "Cops?"

Sure enough, the man in front of him answered, confirming that he wasn't a mirage. "Yeah. I'm sure glad you guys showed up. Officer Nick Hargrove, NOPD."

Hargrove wasn't alone. There were six other cops, all dressed in SWAT gear and armed with SMGs and assault rifles.

Puchenko stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"

"ONI spooks told us to defend the building. There were about fifty of us, so the Captain was sure that we could hold 'em off. But when the assault ships appeared in the sky, most of us bolted, including the Captain. We couldn't set up outside and hope to put up any meaningful defense, so we decided to set up here in the lobby." The cops had set up a sandbagged position, with boxes and crates barricading the doors. It wouldn't have held out for long.

"Where are the spooks?"

"Deeper in. This place is bigger than you think. Goes down for a couple of levels."

Puchenko looked at some of the crates. They read "Misriah Armories, ltd." on the sides. "You get any weapons from those crates?"

The cop shook his head. "No. The weapons we have are our own gear. The boxes were offered to us by the spooks."

"That means they make weapons here," said Puchenko.

"It doesn't mean anything," Kelly countered. "We're not here to find out what ONI does here. Puchenko, Salvatore: stay here and help with the defense. Patel, with me."

The two took an elevator down. There appeared to be no other floors save for the bottom one. Patel looked at Kelly. "You think Chief Puchenko's right, Chief?"

"Probably. Doesn't matter, though. We're here to do our job."

"Aye aye, Chief. I was just thinking, though; they must have some pretty nasty toys down here. Wanna see if we can bring some up?"

"I like the way you think, commando."

They reached the bottom, and were immediately faced with a large blast door. Kelly spotted a pad, and pressed the COM button. "This is Senior Chief Petty Officer Patrick Kelly. Anyone in there?"

There was a brief pause, and then the blast door opened. Two ONI officers were behind it, holding assault rifles that they lowered once they were satisfied that Kelly and Patel were friendlies. "Glad to see you, commandos," said one who wore Commander's acorns. "What's the situation?"

"We were tasked with defending this facility until reinforcements arrived, sir," said Kelly. "Our bird was shot down, though. Four of us are good, three are in the infirmary. Rest are dead."

"Where are the other two?"

"In the lobby, helping the cops with the defense."

"Oh, so some stayed? That's a surprise." The Commander turned. "Most of this stuff is classified, but I trust you. This way." They passed through a bewildering array of rooms. Some looked like normal rooms that researchers used. Others looked like firing ranges. Finally, the Commander led them into an armory.

Kelly was astounded. Rows upon rows of weapons were present. The nearest, Kelly was familiar with: MA5C Assault Rifles and M6G pistols. Further down, he saw the M7, the M7/S, and the M6C/SOCOM, all sitting in neat racks, untouched. On the other side of the room were Covenant weapons of all types. But it was the one large section that caught Kelly's eye. There were several weapons there that looked like assault rifles, similar in shape and design to the MA5C, but it was different. Kelly walked closer. The writing on that rack read:

**MA6X Directed Energy Rifle**

The Commander chuckled at the commandos' expressions. "What? You thought we'd be using bullets forever?"

"So, these things use plasma?" Patel asked. "Like the Covenant plasma rifle?"

"Yes and no. The Elites' version is more…brute force than anything. Ours is a little more refined. We used research from the development of the Spartan Laser in our work, but it is a pulse fire weapon. We combined the best aspects of the Brute and Elite plasma rifles—the former's high rate of fire, the latter's overheat threshold—and put it into this. The bolts are a kind of orangish-gold. Very pretty."

Kelly looked at them closer. He could now see that they did look like shrunken Spartan Lasers. The muzzle end had two small claws like a Covenant plasma rifle instead of a barrel. He picked one up. The Commander walked over and flicked a switch that was exactly where the safety on an MA5C would be. The weapon instantly hummed with energy, and the claw at the end sparkled with a gold fire. "Are these the only prototypes?"

"Yes," said the Commander with a smile, seeing that Kelly clearly wanted to use them. "But given the circumstances, I'll let you have them. The design is safe with the Misriah company anyway."

The ease at which the Commander gave Kelly access to these weapons made the commando suspicious. "There's something else here that's more important, isn't there? Where's the other guy?"

"Dealing with the more important stuff. The Empire can't be allowed to know about the inner workings of stuff like our ships' shields or the pulse lasers we now use. What we can't take, we destroy."

Kelly understood. It was standard operating procedure. "We'll need carts for this stuff."

"No problem."

00000


	7. Chapter 7

Captain Beta approached the entrance with caution. The entrance was barricaded. Although he was fairly certain that the enemy dropship had been shot down and all its occupants dead, it was fairly obvious that there was someone inside. "Boomer, set the charges."

The ARC did so, setting a sizable charge. The charge was designed both for breaching doors and stunning the occupants of the room that the ARCs would enter. Boomer's charge was actually more powerful; he meant to take out everyone in the lobby. When he was finally done, he motioned everyone to stand back, and said, "Fire in the hole."

The explosion was ear-splitting, but the ARCs' helmets filtered out the worst. "Charge!" Beta said.

Boomer led the way, wielding a massive Z-6 Rotary Cannon. He jumped through the wreckage of the doors, cannon blazing…and was promptly met with a hail of gold plasma.

Phase-II Advanced Recon Commando armor was spec-ed to standards that were adapted for a future war with the UNSC. Specifically, ARC armor was highly bullet-resistant, and it took at least seven FMJ rounds from an assault rifle to penetrate it; shredder rounds had less effect. But the MA6X didn't use bullets. It used plasma bolts that were specifically meant to cut through Covenant armor and shields. Plastoid ARC armor stood no chance.

Boomer took several plasma rounds before he managed to stagger back to cover. "I messed up, Captain," he managed to croak, before breathing his last.

"Stang!" Beta said. "When did they start using plasma weapons?" He turned to his remaining men. "Troopers! Grenades!"

Niles ran up and tossed a thermal det. During the brief time he was exposed he was hit by a single bullet, but the chest armor took it. Nevertheless, the impact swept him off his feet and, ironically, saved him from the same fate as Boomer. There was an explosion and a scream, and then silence.

One trooper ran forward, clearly believing that the det had killed the men in the lobby. He was immediately met with a hail of plasma, and fell just as quickly.

Beta was all for simply directing an orbital bombardment onto the facility at this point, or for calling in the remainders of his ARCs in the city to reinforce him, when a frantic call came in through the com. "What is it?" he asked.

_"The enemy commandos were just the advance force, Captain! There are about three hundred Rangers in the city now. Trooper, set off those charges!"_ There was an explosion. _"Captain, we cannot hold this position."_

"Understood. Make for our rally point. We'll hold out while evac arrives." Beta turned to his com trooper. "Contact command. Tell them we need evac."

"Yes sir." A moment later… "Unable to contact Command, sir."

"Then contact Base."

"Unable to contact Base, sir."

"We're being jammed," Beta said to Niles.

"And encircled," Niles added. He was watching HUD footage of Rangers attacking other ARC squads throughout the city. "At this rate, we won't be getting out of here of our own free will."

000

Kelly was amazed. "Damn," he said, looking at the MA6X. "This baby can cut through armor like nobody's business. Hey Commander, why did Misriah make these weapons here?"

"Their corporate executives think that their rivals are spying on their main facility on Mars," the Commander replied. "So the paranoid bastards made sure production of the MA6X was done here, in a closed-off portion of the Misriah complex in the city, and to ensure its secrecy they made us keep them. They're gonna have a fit when they find out that we're using their only prototypes."

Kelly then received a COM message. "Team 45 here."

_"This is Major Erin Crespo, 76th Ranger Battalion. We've entered the city. Need help?"_

"As long as you're offering, ma'am. We're pinned down by at least ten hostiles. We're at the ONI building."

_"Roger that. Help is on the way."_

000

The E/A-32 pilot was too busy observing the battle below to notice that several blips had appeared on his radar. When he finally realized his error, it was too late.

The four V-19 Torrents fired a volley of twenty-four concussion missiles. The E/A-32's pilot immediately went evasive, popping flares. Four missiles missed, but the rest stayed true. The missiles slammed into the UNSC Navy fighter, destroying it completely. The pilot didn't have a chance to eject.

The UNSC Navy air controller on the ground noticed immediately that the E/A-32 was gone, and vectored in the fighter versions. But before the F/A-32 Spatha fighters could get there, the V-19s had already left the area. They would be replaced by several squadrons of V-Wings that were covering the Imperial evacuation force comprising of two LAAT/c gunships, which were modified to have a deck that could carry thirty troopers each.

The Spatha fighters were on their own. The Air Force couldn't get an E-709 airborne in time for them to attack the V-Wing force, and they were outnumbered five to one. Nevertheless, the squadron commander decided to make do with a second E/A-32 as a replacement, and decided to intercept the V-Wings.

What followed was unlike the battle over Oswald Pass. The Spathas were also designed with swept-forward wings like the Peregrines, but they didn't have as much ordnance capacity and they weren't as armored. And unlike the ARC-170s, the V-Wing was fast and agile, and the lack of armor only added to its maneuverability. The Spatha and the V-Wing were equal, and without an E-709 to quarterback the advantage was firmly in the Imperial side.

The Navy pilots soon found that they had bitten off far more than they could chew. They started to concentrate less on getting kills and more on survival, and thus could not even threaten the two larties as they made their approach to the Imperial evac point.

000

_"Beta, this is Command."_

Beta nearly cried with joy. "Reading you loud and clear, Command. We're in a bit of a situation here."

_"I know,"_ said Commander Bow. _"Base was hit hard, but Captain Veers managed to get gunships and fighters to cover your evac. Get out of there."_

"Easier said than done," said Beta. Two Cougars had just appeared on the road in front of the ONI building, depositing ten Rangers each.

_"What's the situation?"_

"We're cut off."

There was a pause. _"Is there any way out?"_

"None, sir." Beta sighed. "It's alright, sir. Get the rest out."

_"Affirmative, Captain. Good luck."_

"To you too, sir," Beta said. He cut the connection and turned to his men. "I'm sorry, lads. I got you into this mess."

"Quite alright, sir," Niles said cheerfully. "Let's greet our friends, then."

The ARCs were outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded. It was a position that Beta was familiar with, but he knew there was no getting out of this.

The Rangers approached cautiously. The ARCs took any opening they got. Precise fire killed three Rangers, but they responded in kind. Sniper fire killed two ARCs, and two Rangers put heavy SAW fire on their positions, pinning them down.

Beta was aiming at an approaching Ranger when he heard footsteps behind him and realized he'd forgotten about the men who'd been barricaded inside the lobby. He turned just in time to see several men holding what appeared to be advanced versions of their normal assault rifles. It was the last thing he saw.

000

Kelly let loose with the plasma rifle, as did his squad, the two spooks and the cops. The ARCs were completely taken by surprise. Two managed to fire as they went down, killing one cop and injuring the Commander, but the rest went down quickly. "Hold your fire!" Kelly shouted at the Rangers. "We're friendly."

"The hostiles?" one Ranger inquired.

"Dead."

"Good. Hold your fire; friendlies moving up." A Ranger with Lieutenant's insignia appeared. "Nice to see you squids made it. Casualties?"

"Two dead, three wounded. Two cops dead as well. That's not including the people we lost when our bird pancaked on the roof."

"What the hell kind of rifle is that?"

"Latest toy from Misriah," said the Commander. "Don't get excited; there are only fourteen. Secure the rest and let's get out of here." She turned to the other ONI officer. "Lieutenant, get the intel up here. Don't scare him."

"Don't scare…the intel?" Patel asked, bewildered.

The ONI Lieutenant disappeared into the building and emerged moments later with a pink, floating alien in tow. The alien made a low whistling sound. "Shut up, Heavy," the Lieutenant said. "I didn't hide at all." The alien made another whistle. "Of course you think hiding is good. You're a damned living propane tank. One bullet and you light up like a cracker. No, don't you whistle at me!" He turned to the others. "Gents, say hello to Heavier Than Most, resident Engineer."

"That thing stinks," Patel said.

"Don't I know it." He turned to the Ranger leader. "Lieutenant, if you don't mind…"

"Uh, sure. Put him in the back." He pointed to a Cougar. "But I'll ride on the roof, if you don't mind."

000

The larties quickly gathered the remaining ARCs and took off. The V-Wings suddenly broke off their attack on the Navy fighters to cover the gunships. There were only twenty ARC survivors. The rest had been killed by Navy commandos or Army Rangers.

The Empire had gotten a little bit of revenge, however. Of the five Navy fighters that had challenged them, only the E/A-32 was still flying, and that too in the opposite direction. The rest had been destroyed, with only two of the pilots managing to eject. The Air Force tried to get their own fighters up in time, but they were too late. The ARCs escaped.

General Warner gazed at the after-action reports. "We should've anticipated fighters. Damn."

"We managed to secure the ONI facility," Colonel Green said. "That's good."

The truth was that while the facility was indeed secure, the second objective—the neutralization of the Empire's ARC force—had not been achieved.

Lt. Cmdr. Barclay seemed pleased from his seat in a Knight Hawk. _"I do wish we'd gotten all the buggers, but we did kill half of them. That should put them out of play for a while."_

"Good job, Commander," Warner said. "Return to base. Excalibur out." He looked at his watch. "Twenty-three-hundred. In eleven hours, Task Force Four-Alpha will enter the system. When they do, I want to coordinate a massive ground and air assault that will coincide with the Navy's."

"What's the target?" asked Colonel Tarkov.

"Their Elysium Fields base. It's a major pipeline for their troops and supplies, and is a greater threat than the 327th."

Tarkov scowled. Scouts had reported that the 327th Star Corps had finally made it through the pass…and had taken over management of the 19th Battalion's base. "What is the plan?"

"Honestly? We can plan a full assault on the Elysium Fields base, but not much else. I'd like for us to get rid of the 327th but we don't have enough troops to devote for both that and the Fields. If we're lucky, the Task Force will drop in more ODSTs. For now, the main focus is their main base. Without counting the ODSTs, the Rangers, armor and a Guard Division to leave here to defend the city, we can commit one-hundred-and-thirty-thousand troops, four-hundred-thirty-two tanks, thirty artillery pieces, a hundred-fifty-five fighters, thirty A-24s, and sixty bombers without leaving the city completely defenseless in case the 327th decide to attack."

"Well then," said Tarkov. "Let us plan on how to destroy the Elysium Fields base."

000

**I-Day: 2300 hrs**

Commander Bow gazed upon the destruction. A force of new Multi-Altitude-Assault-Transports, or MAATs, had brought him and the 501st Legion's First Tactical Battalion to Saber Base, and there was much to be done. The two destroyed assault ships were yet to be moved; there wasn't enough time and they would be vulnerable to UNSC air attacks. There was also the matter of the AT-AT force. Nearly eighty percent of it had been wiped out, and Admiral Yularen was reluctant to put the last ten on the ground.

_"What is the situation, Commander?"_ Yularen asked from orbit.

"Extremely heavy casualties, sir," Bow replied. "The Beta ARC company assigned to secure that ONI facility was also hit hard. UNSC special forces secured the city before they could get in, and Captain Beta was killed. The men have taken an enemy pilot prisoner, but he's in bad shape and probably doesn't know anything about anything."

_"Where is Captain Veers?"_

"Busy, sir. This place was hit very hard. The enemy is skilled at holding out against superior forces. What are your orders, sir? Should we launch another assault against the city?"

000

"No," said Admiral Yularen. "Cease all offensive actions for the day, and inform _Colonel_ Veers of his promotion. We will continue tomorrow. Command out." He sighed. "This is much harder than I thought."

"No one anticipated that the UNSC would be this prepared," Captain Mayar said.

"We should have. We saw them fight in the Clone Wars."

An officer ran up. "Intelligence message, Admiral."

Yularen read it. "Of all the times that this could happen…"

"What is it, sir?" Mayar asked.

"Intelligence has received reports that the Rebels have amassed a fleet in the Outer Rim to attack us," Yularen said. "I don't need any more complications…" He sighed again. "Captain, direct half of the fleet to move to the edge of the system. If the Rebels attack, I don't want them crossing into my battle zone."

"Yes, sir."

000

"Well?" said Commander Peng Xi. "Did they buy it?"

"I think so, sir," said Lieutenant Francis Meyer, the COM officer of the ONI prowler _Cornelia_.

Xi was in a unique position. He was in the rear of the Imperial invasion, unable to attack. But his position in Imperial space and ONI's knowledge of Imperial Intelligence's transmission codes and frequencies allowed him to misdirect and mislead. And he'd done just that, by sending a false intel message to the Imperial commander in charge of the Harvest invasion. With any luck, Fourth Fleet's task force would run into a much reduced Imperial fleet, and turn the tables in favor for the UNSC.

000

_"Once again, we experience the benefit of underestimating an enemy on his home ground. There are a lot of mistakes for us to learn from today."_

**Marshal Commander CC-1120 "Bow", in his after-action report on I-Day.**

**I-Day plus 1: 0600 hrs**

General Frank Warner, UNSC Army, gathered all his senior officers. "Let's go over the plan again," he said. "In less than four hours, Task Force Four-Alpha is going to enter the system and challenge the Imperial fleet, and we have to coordinate our offensive with theirs. Do we have all our pieces in place?"

"Air Force units are at maximum readiness," said Lt. Gen. Margaret Vanderbilt.

"All Army units are in position," said Col. Green.

"My Marines are good to go," said Brig. Gen. Luke Ryan. "I'm still not sure about leaving the ODSTs here."

"They're here to defend the city alongside the Rangers and Guard units in case the 327th attempt to take the city while we're gone," said Warner.

"They won't take the city while we're here, sir," said Col. Tarkov.

"Good," said Warner. "We begin our attack fifteen minutes after TF4A enters the system."

000

Admiral Vasily Borodin was now in command of Third Fleet. Admiral Pierre Laval had been transferred to Fourth Fleet, which he would command in the absence of Admiral Henry Paulson, who was leading the Fourth Fleet task force. If Borodin had had his way, Third Fleet would have set forth immediately, readiness levels notwithstanding. But the truth of the matter was that Third Fleet was still being reformed, and it was only three quarters of its original strength. Only two Garuda-Class carriers had been added to Third, and both were considered baby carriers. Borodin wanted a Trafalgar-Class supercarrier to add to his fleet.

HIGHCOM wouldn't release Fourth Fleet, fearing that another Imperial fleet would try and hit Altair IV; it was a major naval base and its loss would mean the loss of the Outer Colonies. Laval was content with that decision. He preferred defensive action over offense. But Borodin strongly suspected that the Empire wouldn't try to hit Altair IV with the forces they had now. It would take a much larger fleet to take Altair IV, which was protected by a ring of thirty orbital MAC platforms and Fourth Fleet. The Empire would have to first thoroughly conquer Harvest, and then use the Epsilon Indi system as a platform to invade the Outer Colonies and then Altair IV Naval Base.

There was nothing Borodin could do. He stared out from the docks at his ever-growing fleet, which wasn't growing fast enough for his liking.

000

Admiral Wulf Yularen had similar emotions regarding the invasion of Harvest, which wasn't going quite as well as he thought it would. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the enemy had conducted a clever campaign of hitting the resupply base hard to disrupt troop and material transfers, and of making full use of the terrain. If he'd done things the way Vader had wanted him to, he could have simply glassed the planet and have been done with it. But the Emperor had decided that Harvest would make an excellent platform for an invasion of the UN itself. So things were being done the hard way.

Yularen had enough on his plate dealing with the UNSC ground forces and anticipating a UNSC Navy counterattack without also having to prepare for a possible Rebel strike on his fleet. His fleet was divided. It wasn't an attractive position.

Marshal Commander Bow reported from the surface. _"Things are about as good as they can be down here, Admiral. With your permission, I'd like to restart the resupply chain for Saber Base."_

"Granted," said Yularen. "Any enemy contact so far?"

_"No hard contact so far, but radar keeps picking up their aircraft just beyond reach of our surface-to-air weapons. They're keeping an eye on us…and I can't spare the fighters to do anything about it."_

"I see. Well Commander, I'm afraid you'll just have to tolerate them. Command out." Yularen sighed. "This was supposed to be easy."

Captain Mayar said nothing, but she agreed. She'd grown up hearing about how mighty the Republic military and its Imperial successor were. She'd fully believed that the Empire could do anything. Now she had her doubts. A force scarcely a third the size of Imperial Task Force Saber's ground force was holding them off with apparent ease. Whatever the outcome, Mayar knew that this campaign would be educating.

000

**I-Day plus 1: 0956 hrs**

What looked like a huge thunderstorm in space were actually the seventy-nine ships of Task Force Four-Alpha exiting Slipspace. Led by the Iowa-Class Battleship _New Jersey_, the task force was ready to roll, just how Admiral Henry Paulson intended.

"We've entered the system, Admiral," said Captain Choi Tae-in. With the absence of Captain Craig Lawson due to illness, Choi doubled as both commander of the _New Jersey_, his original role, and as the fleet operations officer. It was a tremendous responsibility, but Choi didn't seem to be affected in the slightest, which was why he was considered to be among the best captains in the history of the UNSC Navy.

"Contact!" said TAC. "Enemy fleet sighted."

Paulson looked at the TAC screen. The Imperial fleet was much larger than he thought…but half of it was on the other end of the system.

Choi looked at the screen as well. "They have a lot of ships. But they're divided."

"Exactly," said Paulson. "There're only thirty ships orbiting the planet. Prepare to charge them. COM, contact the enemy fleet commander."

000

On the Star Destroyer _Imperator_, Admiral Yularen was cursing his bad luck. The assault on Harvest itself had cost him seventy-seven ships, and of the remaining he'd posted eighty-one at the edge of the system to counter a massive Rebel strike that was supposed to hit him.

"Incoming transmission, Admiral," said the com officer.

"Put it on my screen," Yularen said.

The grainy image of a UNSC Rear Admiral appeared. _"This is Admiral Henry Louis Paulson of the UNSC Navy. You are hereby ordered to withdraw all forces from Harvest and surrender immediately…or suffer the consequences."_

"Sir?" asked Captain Mayar. "Should we respond?"

"No," the Admiral said. "Order all ships in orbit to form up on _Imperator_ and order the ships at the edge of the system to rally at these coordinates." He listed a set of coordinates far from the planet.

"Enemy ships are closing in," said the PWO, or principle weapons officer.

000

As soon as Paulson decided that the Imperial commander wouldn't respond—and he decided rather quickly—he ordered Captain Choi to begin the attack.

Task Force Four-Alpha consisted of one Iowa-Class Battleship, two Garuda-Class Carriers, seven Marathon-Class Cruisers, another seven state-of-the-art Valkyrie-Class cruisers, fourteen Iroquois-Class Destroyers, twenty-eight Ajax-Class frigates, and twenty Monitor-Class corvettes. This was a relatively small force, and it had originally been put together to intimidate the Empire against an invasion. However, the force was fully capable of going on a wartime footing—which it was now in—and it was highly capable, much more so than the token Guard force that ITF Saber had smashed.

Before the Imperial ships in orbit could get to their rally point, TF4A had closed in. Seventy-nine MAC rounds were fired at the thirty ships. They streaked across space at 30,000 miles per second.

The ships in orbit were centered around _Imperator_, but _Imperator_ was the only Star Destroyer in that group; the rest were Acclamator I and II-Class Assault Ships and Frigates, carrying troops and supplies for Saber Base. They weren't designed to withstand MAC rounds. Some were hit with upwards of five rounds, smashing them to bits. Others were pushed into the paths of other ships, and a mass chaos ensued in the Imperial lines. Some discipline prevailed, however; many ships moved to shield the Star Destroyer as they retreated. In the end, all but _Imperator _were destroyed, and the Star Destroyer quickly moved out of range.

"That was easy," said Paulson. "Begin landing the ODSTs and the Spartans."

000

_Imperator_ had not gotten off easy. Two MAC rounds had struck the Star Destroyer, destroying gun batteries and wrecking entire sections of deck. Luckily, the engines had been spared, and the helmsman had saved them with his maneuvers. Yularen made a mental note to have the man awarded with a Nova Star Medal.

"They're certainly landing additional troops, Admiral," said Mayar. "And any reinforcements we could have landed are now gone. We don't have any more assault ships. Our men on the ground are trapped."

"There are the troops aboard the Victory-Class ships," said Yularen. "And it won't matter how many troops they land. Once we rendezvous with the rest of the fleet, we will crush them."

"Incoming transmission from Saber Base," said the com officer.

It appeared to be Commander Bow. _"They've initiated a massive assault! We can't hold them! Trooper, set off those charges now! Command, we need reinforcements!"_

"We have our own problems, Base," said Mayar. "We can't help you in any way."

_"Fierfek! Eat blaster, you karking sleemo! Sorry Command; that wasn't directed at you. I'm ordering all forces to abandon Saber Base and to regroup at the fort that Bly repossessed. Base out."_

"Today is full of good news, isn't it?" Yularen grumped.

000

TF4A had been put together too fast to carry a large force of Marines. However, the cruiser _Kara_ carried a compliment of ODSTs that had been supposed to deal with possible pirate activity in the Madrigal system…and four Spartan-II units, designated Blue Team, that were supposed to be deployed in Imperial systems to help Rebel units there. As the circumstances changed, so did the mission for these units.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 checked his MA5C Assault Rifle. He had been involved in three major wars—the Insurrection, the Covenant War, and the Clone Wars—and this would be his fourth. It didn't matter to him. Truth be told, he didn't know what he would do in peacetime.

Joining him were three other Spartans: Kelly-087, one of John's closest friends and the fastest Spartan; Fred-104, who was like John in most respects but lacked the Master Chief's steady confidence; and Linda-058, who was quite possibly the best sniper in the known galaxy. Fred, interestingly, had received a battlefield promotion to Lieutenant (Junior Grade), but had decided to hand over leadership to John, who was quite content with remaining a senior NCO.

"Here we go," Fred said softly. "Again."

"What?" Kelly asked, amused. "You had plans?"

"Yeah, actually. I wanted to see all the vids I missed out on during the war." As the official last series of Spartans (the S-III series was still highly classified), the Spartans had a lot more free time, and ONI officials had decided it would be a good time to slowly ease the super-soldiers into a civilian life. Fred had gotten a taste for movies during the lull between the Clone Wars and now.

Kelly laughed. "Good luck with that. What about you, Linda? You had plans?"

Linda simply shrugged and continued to reassemble her sniper rifle. She never spoke much.

"Chief?"

The Master Chief was surprised that he'd been asked for an opinion. "We have an obligation to pass on what we learned," he finally replied. Civilian life had not suited John. He had found solace in doing what his mentor, Franklin Mendez, had specialized in: being a drill instructor for special ops operators. In his case, he had been helping in training the Navy's new Commando Special Operations Groups, the eventual replacement for the Spartan program.

"Too bad we aren't training new Spartans," Kelly said. She didn't mention the Spartan-IIIs; this wasn't the time or the place, and too many people were around. The S-IIIs were being shown how to live civilian lives. It was difficult; their training had swallowed most of their childhood. But since the Gamma Company batch were still children, the ONI doctors believed that there was a good chance that every one of them could live normal lives. Of course, doctors would say things like that to make people feel better.

John turned his mind to the mission. Today, they wouldn't be engaging in fighting…if things went as everyone had planned, which rarely happened. It was his job, and his squad's, to link up with Asgard's defenders. CENTCOM hoped that if the Empire knew that additional reinforcements were in Asgard, they'd leave it alone. No one in the room believed that to be the case, and so they loaded up for bear. They wouldn't be caught unprepared.

000

Commander Bly listened to the reports with a scowl on his face. Saber Base was certainly lost. The rest of the ground forces were retreating to Fort Green, where Bly and the 327th had set up shop. He'd sent men into Oswald Pass to protect the retreat, but wondered what he would do when the retreat finally reached him.

Fort Green had been designed to hold a battalion of troops, not an entire corps. Now, even more troops were coming in, not to mention whatever armor and gunships they had. It would be a huge mess.

Bly had examined the fort after EOD teams cleared it of any potential booby traps. It was well designed, with all the facilities one would expect. The base computers were down, as expected; the ODSTs had erased all computer records and smashed up the hardware. The techs had said that any usable data was lost. Instead, they had set up several portable computers. The medical facility had been emptied of medical supplies, but the 327th had brought plenty of their own.

Bly contacted Commander Bow. Bow responded quickly, although he seemed harried. _"Bly, old boy…I could really use some help now."_

"I thought as much, sir," Bly replied. "It seems that you need a diversion."

_"My thoughts exactly. Can you launch a diversionary attack on the capital? It might draw away some of the enemies that are blocking us."_

"Yes sir. I'll get it done." Once the transmission ended, Bly turned to Commander Nuren. "Get the men ready. We're going to assault the capital."

000

Admiral Yularen listened patiently as Bly made his request for more fighters. "I'm sorry, Commander. I cannot risk any more of my ships."

_"Sir, if you launch a diversionary attack on the UNSC fleet, you'll have a window to send us fighters. Or you could try to get some ARC-170s to perform a puddle-jump."_ A 'puddle-jump' was a brief hyperspace jump across a short distance. It was risky, and had to be timed precisely.

"That is quite the dangerous maneuver," Yularen said.

_"Desperate times, sir."_

"Quite so. Very well. You'll have as much as I can give you." Yularen turned to Mayar. "Fleece off as many 170s as we can spare from the fleet. I don't want the Empire's best troops to be decimated. And I do not intend on losing the planet."

"Yes sir," Captain Mayar said. "The fleet is almost ready for the counter-attack."

"Very good, Captain."

000

In Asgard, General Warner monitored the battle. A soldier rushed in and said, "Sir, ODSTs of the 105th are here. They've just entered the city. Four Spartans are with them, too."

"Good," Warner said. "But we won't need them, if things go as planned." He frowned. "And they seldom do."

As if in answer, an officer said, "Sir, we're seeing movement on Highway 1-E. Looks like over thirty thousand foot-mobiles and armor. They're coming from Fort Green."

Warner scowled. "The 327th. We should've flattened Fort Green."

His troubles weren't over yet. A Navy officer said, "Sir, I'm reading multiple contacts in the atmosphere, coming from the south-east." An Air Force operator confirmed.

"Do we have anything up in the air?"

"An E-709 is up, sir," the Air Force officer reported. "Sir, multiple enemy heavy fighters approaching form the south-east."

Warner was surprised. He thought that the Elysium Fields base was inoperable. "Starburst, please confirm that the enemy airfield is inoperable."

_"Confirmed, Excalibur. Why d'you ask?"_ Brig. Gen. Luke Ryan responded. The Marine general was leading the attack. He was decidedly unhappy with the call-sign 'Starburst'.

"Stand by, Starburst." He turned to Lt. Gen. Vanderbilt. "Marge, get some fighters up in the air."

"I can lend a few squadrons of Peregrines," Vanderbilt replied. "I'd like the Navy to give a helping hand with some of their Spathas."

Warner turned to the Air Force officer. "Can you give me exact numbers, son?"

"Around a hundred fighters, sir," the officer replied.

"And how many fighters can we spare?"

"Twenty, maybe thirty. More if the Navy lends a few." Vanderbilt said. "How the hell did they get past the Navy?"

"Worry about that later. Starburst, this is Excalibur. Can you spare any fighter support?"

_"Negative,"_ Ryan responded. _"They're fighting like hellcats. We're taking heavy casualties."_

Warner sighed. "Finish them off fast, Starburst. It's about to get real exciting here."

_"I'll do the best I can, Excalibur. Starburst out."_

Warner next tried TF4A, to no avail; the Imperial fleet was still out there. He turned to Vanderbilt. "I don't care how you get it done, I want those fighters out of the air."

"I'll need help from our triple-A. That means we'll be fighting them right over the city, sir," Vanderbilt warned.

"While our troops get hammered by the 327th," Warner growled. "Very well. Get it done."

The Air Force officer suddenly said, "Sir, our coms are being jammed. Looks like the enemy ground advance is the source."

"Fantastic."

00000


	8. Chapter 8

Captain Derek Corbin once again found himself in the skies. He'd been upset to find out that he wouldn't be taking part in the assault on the enemy base, but he was glad to find out that he actually did have something to do.

That happiness quickly evaporated once he realized the odds arrayed against his motley force of Air Force Peregrines and Navy Spathas. The situation was so bad that Command was now in the process of outfitting a few B-709s with air-to-air missiles. Once outfitted in such a manner, the B-709s could bring considerable firepower to bear against a numerically powerful force. But the bombers couldn't dogfight, and Corbin didn't think he could spare any fighters for escort duties. "Dragon Lead to Odin, status on the enemy?"

_"They're less than five minutes from the fringe of your missile range, Dragon Lead,"_ the E-709 operator responded. _"Wait for them to come to you."_

"Copy." The plan was to lure the enemy into the range of both fighter missiles and ground-based SAM batteries in the city. Corbin wondered what genius thought of that plan, and imagined what the poor REMF would think once fighters started crashing into skyscrapers. He calculated the odds: eighteen Peregrines and twelve Spathas, against a hundred ARC-170s. He'd schooled them yesterday, but now they had greater numbers…and a loss to make up for.

000

Captain Darien Yage was excited. The Imperial Fighter Corps was finally going to avenge their loss of the previous day. There was no way the UNSC would win this one, and he would never again underestimate them. Today was a day of reckoning.

The force commander spoke through the com. _"All squadrons, check in."_

Yage waited his turn before saying, "Gray Squadron, standing by." It was nearly time.

_"Lock S-Foils in attack position."_

As soon as the four small S-Foils extended, the speed of the ARC-170 decreased, but her maneuverability increased, and in attack position the 170's cannons could fire faster. Yage was going to use the full maneuverability of his fighter to maximum efficiency.

_"Beware of enemy surface-to-air missiles,"_ the force commander warned. _"Blue through Green Squadrons, hit the artillery sites in the Eastern Sector. Red through Grey Squadrons, engage enemy fighters at will."_

Yage responded by increasing speed, his eyes firmly fixed on the small circling dots that were the enemy fighters.

000

_"Odin to all squadrons, engage at will."_

Corbin didn't even bother to reply. He led his squadron right into the teeth of the enemy attack. Missiles flew every which way. Fighters from both sides soon started dropping from the sky, or erased in explosions.

Corbin slid neatly behind an ARC-170, selected guns, and fired. The cannon rounds chewed through the 170's thick armor and penetrated something vital. The enemy fighter exploded, and Corbin streaked right through the wreckage. Luckily, he wasn't hit with debris.

_"Good kill, good kill,"_ Odin reported. Then: _"Dragon Lead, you've been locked onto."_

The E-709 operator was right. A 170 was right behind Corbin. Try as he might, the fighter stuck with him. Green blaster cannon rounds streaked past his canopy. "Dragon Lead to any friendly fighters: I could use some help here."

As if his prayers were answered, a Peregrine fired a missile which killed the 170. _"Stay safe, lead,"_ said Dragon Two.

"Thanks," said Corbin. He relieved his frustrations by bore-sighting another 170 and shoving a Bullseye up its tailpipe.

For the UNSC pilots, it was quickly becoming a fight for survival. The Imperials had them outnumbered and outgunned, and many of their pilots were skilled. Of the thirty fighters that had gone up, eight had been shot down: five Peregrines and three Spathas. The Imperials hadn't gotten off easy, either. The UNSC pilots had shot down twenty, and SAMs had claimed another fifteen. But the Imperial objectives were being accomplished; the UNSC fighters were too heavily engaged to provide cover for the A-24s that Command wanted to halt the 327th, and many artillery pieces had been destroyed. The Empire was only too willing to trade a few fighters for an advantage.

On the ground, things were becoming complicated for the defenders.

000

Colonel Green was organizing the defense. The UNSC still had numerical superiority, but the Imperials had air support, and many of his artillery pieces were gone. Enemy gunships added to his growing list of woes, strafing his defensive positions and tearing his armor to pieces.

A huge shadow next to him startled him, and he was even more startled when he saw its owner. "Damn," was all he could say at first.

"Master Chief Spartan-One-One-Seven, reporting for duty, sir."

"Spartans, huh? Maybe we have a chance, then. I'm trying to convince the Air Force to lend a squadron of A-24s, but they won't do any such thing, not with enemy fighters overhead and the enemy's own anti-air." He showed the Master Chief a hologram. "This is an All-Terrain-Anti-Air walker. Fires a stream of plasma at a high rate. Very accurate, and very deadly. They also appear to be the source of this jamming. I want these taken out. Can you do it?"

The Chief examined the map. The enemy force was approaching via the highway. A sewer line ran underneath it, and was connected to the city's sewer system. "Yes sir. What would you want us to do?"

"Intel says the AT-AA can shoot and jam, but not both at the same time. First, take out the jammers. Then put a laser designator on the AA walkers so I can hit them with long-range artillery. If you need anything, I'll give it to you."

"Some additional support would be nice, sir."

"I thought as much. I'm sending a platoon of Rangers to support you. The Air Force is also willing to risk a few A-24s, but you'll only be able to contact them once the jammers are destroyed."

"Why not ODSTs, sir?"

Green grinned. "Because I'm Army, son. Dismissed, and good luck."

000

Admiral Paulson was concerned. The Imperial fleet was still holding position at the edge of the system, only firing whenever the task force's scout ships got a little too close. It was plain that they didn't plan to leave. And the edge of the system was a great place to hide even a vast fleet. Even now, his scouts were gradually losing contact. He wished that the task force had had a few stealth frigates. They were better suited to shadowing a fleet than his corvettes. ONI had sent its prowlers to God knew where, so he couldn't borrow theirs. His instincts told him to attack, but without a firm fix on the enemy's position it would be a risk even he wouldn't take.

"Damn," he muttered. "We should've finished them off _before_ we landed troops. Have we regained contact with Excalibur?"

"Negative," said Captain Choi. "They're being jammed. Ground-based interference."

"What about Starburst? Can you get through to them?"

"Affirmative, but they can't get through to Excalibur either. In any case, they're too busy with their attack to do anything. They did catch something before the jamming, though. Seems that nearly a hundred contacts were detected by Excalibur before they were cut off."

"How? All Imperial fighters were destroyed by Starburst…or at least they said so."

The navigation officer stood up. "Sir, I might have an idea."

Paulson raised an eyebrow, even though he was secretly pleased that this boy had guts. "Go on."

"A puddle-jump, sir. I read a report about the capture of a Covenant ship. To escape the rest of the Covenant, the AI that had taken control of it jumped from low orbit to the edge of the system."

"And you think the Empire did the same thing, son?"

"Yes sir. Their hyperdrive system is capable of such a maneuver even though hyperspace travel takes place in realspace. And their ARC-170s have a built-in hyperdrive system."

Paulson stared at the young man until the officer started sweating. "Makes more sense than anything I've heard yet. Captain, can we spare any fighters?"

Choi shook his head. "We'll need everything if we're going after that fleet. And you can bet they're watching us."

Paulson knew why Choi thought so. TF4A was holding position near Harvest, easily visible. An anonymous Imperial scout fighter could be watching them even now. "Dammit. We know what's going on, or we have an idea as to what's going on, but we can't do a damn thing."

000

Lt. Gen. Vanderbilt looked at all the A-24 pilots that were present. "First of all, I want to let you know that if you accept, you'll be going right into the meat grinder. That's why this is a strictly volunteer mission. I won't hold it against you if you decline."

The pilots stepped forward simultaneously. A look of grim determination was on every face.

Vanderbilt was proud. "We're under attack by a large army. They have a lot of air support. Our fighters won't be able to give you cover. However, it is imperative that we halt the enemy ground advance. There's jamming that's interfering with our coms, but we have a ground force that is going to take that jamming offline. Once they do that, they'll call in for air support. I expect you to give it. Until then, stay out of range of the enemy fighters. Good luck, and dismissed."

000

_"Rangers Lead The Way!"_

**Motto of the UNSC Army Rangers, also the motto of their US Army ancestors**

The sewer system was very modern and efficient, but it didn't stop it from stinking like hell. The Spartans and the Rangers were glad that they wore full helmets. Everyone tried to avoid looking at the sludge passing them by.

Staff Sergeant Omar "Bear" Barrows jogged alongside the Master Chief. He was a heavily built man about six-foot-nine, and nearly as bulky looking as a Spartan. He'd once played for his college's gravball team. Alongside the Spartans he seemed small, but he didn't care. He hefted an MA37, unlike his platoon that mostly carried MA4A and M6J Carbines. "That intersection, right there," Barrows pointed. "We should find a ladder there."

"Right," the Chief said. "We'll have to go up one by one. Once we do, leave a team here to secure the exit. When it's time to leave, we'll have to go fast."

"Roger that."

Behind them two soldiers whispered to one another. "I don't know what's worse: being on the receiving end of an invasion, being in a sewer, or going on a suicide mission."

"Hooah," the other agreed.

"Cut the chatter," Barrows said. The talk stopped instantly. No one argued with The Bear. "Menendez, take point."

"Hooah!" the soldier said, running up. He climbed the ladder and carefully opened the drain cover. "Aw, man. There's a whole mess of tangos out here. They're looking the wrong way, though."

"Alright then," the Chief said. "Careful, and stay in cover. Let's not rush this."

One by one, the soldiers climbed out. When the Chief got out he discovered that they were in a grass median dividing the highway. The drain was in a ditch and the storm troopers that Menendez had spotted were on the highway above and ahead, looking towards the city. They appeared to be guarding the ammunition stores; boxes of artillery rounds and blaster rifle magazines were all around.

The Chief motioned Kelly to move up and scout out the area. Silently, she stole up behind the Imperial troops, who didn't bother to look behind them, believing their rear to be secure. She came back. "Chief, the AA guns are a few meters beyond the ammo stores. The ammo boxes should give us cover enough to move forward without getting mowed down."

"Good." The Chief turned to Barrows. "Sergeant, Hang back and watch for enemy units trying to flank us. Use the ammo crates as cover. Once the jammers are down, we'll call in artillery on the AA guns. After that, we'll use air strikes to cover our retreat. Understood?"

"Affirmative," Barrows said. "We can help you, Chief. We're good at other things besides watching your flanks."

The Chief depolarized his visor and gave a sad smile. "You know, those slogans that ONI used to use? 'Spartans never die'?"

"Yeah, I remember those. I thought it was a bunch of bull."

"You thought right. If we get trapped, we might be able to hold out longer because of our shields and armor, but we'll eventually be overwhelmed. We're not immortal."

Barrows nodded. "OK, Chief. Do what you gotta do. But we'll be ready if you need us."

The Chief nodded in return. "Blue Team, form up."

They crawled quietly up the slope. Fred carried a rocket launcher with two additional reloads. Linda, for once, wasn't packing a sniper rifle. She held a M6 Spartan Laser, which was just as accurate as a sniper, but was better for taking out vehicles. It was no secret that she preferred something else, however. John and Kelly were armed with assault rifles. The flashlights were replaced with 40mm grenade launchers.

The four Spartans spread out. The Master Chief came upon a patrol of two storm troopers that were working on unlocking a crate. They weren't paying attention. He grabbed them both by the necks and squeezed. His enhanced strength meant that his grip was immensely strong, and he snapped both necks like they were twigs.

Kelly stumbled upon a four-man team. Before they could react, she'd stabbed one, punched out another, kicked one in the face and karate-chopped the last man's throat. All four were killed instantly. They never had a chance; Kelly was the fastest Spartan, and she could move like the wind.

Fred and Linda found two alone. They were summarily strangled to death without much fuss.

The Chief frowned. The killing was quite efficient and all, but he'd hoped to avoid patrols until the last moment. Someone would notice that eight men weren't reporting in. Time was running out.

The Chief knew he was close to the jammer when his HUD started acting up. The MJOLNIR armor was hardened against EMP and other electronic warfare actions, but one AT-AA had enough power to jam an entire city. It was twenty meters in front of him, surrounded by storm troopers. Ahead was a battery of twelve in anti-air mode, searching the skies for targets, turrets swiveling this way and that. "Blue Four, you have a shot?"

"Affirmative," Linda replied.

"Take it."

The M6 fired a ruby-red laser that traveled instantaneously to its target. It was famed as a vehicle killer. It did just that, slicing through to the AT-AA's power core. The walker blew up, swallowing the guards with it.

The other Imperials were confused. They didn't know how their walker was destroyed. Some looked to the sky and found nothing.

The Master Chief decided to use that confusion to their advantage. "Excalibur, this is Sierra-One-One-Seven."

_"We read you, One-One-Seven."_

"Fire mission, danger close. We're lasing the targets now." He activated the laser designated mounted on the side of his rifle and aimed at the AA battery.

_"Copy. Fire mission, danger close."_

Within seconds, the Chief heard the scream of artillery shells incoming. He took cover behind the ammo crates.

The explosion was phenomenal. The artillery was right on target. The AA battery was completely destroyed. Mission accomplished. Now, all they had to do was get away before the Imperials caught them, or worse: get caught in friendly fire once the A-24s started their run.

000

Commander Bly was outside his command walker, despite pleas from his subordinates. He'd learned in Oswald Pass that a command walker wasn't necessarily a safe place. It definitely didn't protect anyone from an A-24. He was certainly safer outside.

"Sir," said Captain Orval. "We've lost all contact with patrols twelve, nine and sixteen. They haven't answered any hails. Furthermore, we've also lost contact with the AT-AA Walkers Two-One-Besh through Four-Nine-Sarlacc. And their guards."

Bly frowned. In reality, he wouldn't know whether any one walker was destroyed. The whole battlefield was smoke and noise and destruction. One column of smoke was just like another. But Bly noticed that there was a column of smoke at the rear of his advance where there shouldn't have been. "Orval, take your platoon and check it out." He switch com channels as he contacted the Imperial fighters' commander. "Be advised commander Fel: the enemy may not be jammed, and we may have lost our AA guns."

_"Understood,"_ the fighter commander replied. _"I have my hands full here, but I'll try to lend assistance if I can. Commander Fel out."_

Bly wasn't reassured. "Captain Tyto, come in."

_"Receiving, sir."_

"Something's not right. Take your company and support Orval."

_"Copy that."_

000

The Master Chief decided that he'd confirmed the destruction of the AA battery. "Blue Team, let's bug out. Archer Two-One, you receiving?"

_"Loud and clear,"_ Barrows replied. _"Nice fireworks, Chief. I suggest bugging out."_

"Agreed. Watch for hostiles. They'll be sending reinforcements."

As if on cue, several storm troopers appeared out of the smoke. They spotted the Chief and fired. Blue blaster bolts slammed into his energy shields, making them flare gold. The blaster bolts whittled away at his shields, slowly depleting them.

Dashing for cover, he fired back. A grenade launcher round and a burst of automatic fire later, five storm troopers lay dead. But more were appearing, and they were alternating fire, preventing him from shooting back. However, the Imperials didn't know about the rest of Blue Team.

A rocket whooshed directly over the Master Chief's helmet and right into a speeder bringing additional Imperial reinforcements. Fred fired the next rocket without delay, right into a group of three soldiers. "Chief, we really should get the hell out of here," he said.

To reinforce the point, Barrows said, _"Chief! We're encountering a lot of tangos out here! We're holding them off for now, but not for much longer!"_

"Copy that, we're Oscar Mike."

The four Spartans threw smoke grenades to cover their retreat, but the Imperials must have switched to thermal, because blaster bolts kept whizzing past him, missing by mere inches. When he reached Sergeant Barrow's position, the Ranger was cutting down a storm trooper that had killed one of his men. "We gotta go, Chief!"

"Agreed," John replied calmly. "You and your men go first. We'll cover you."

"You sure?"

"We have shields," Kelly pointed out.

"True enough. Rangers, we're moving out!"

Quickly, the Rangers moved to go down the drain pipe. But some were injured, and that slowed them down. The Spartans were burning through their ammo, but they were unwilling to move until everyone had gotten to safety. Suddenly, the smoke cover was blown away. An LAAT/i gunship appeared. All its weapons appeared to be pointing right at them.

Without hesitation, Fred fired his last rocket. The gunship moved out of the way, but didn't move far enough. The rocket clipped the right wing and spun the gunship round, but didn't knock it out of the sky. Before long, it had flown in a circle and come right back at them. Thankfully, the smoke cover had returned, at least for the few seconds that it took for the gunship to reach its original position. By that time, it was too late…for the gunship. Linda had the M6 Laser out and ready. The beam hit the left engine, blowing the wing right off. The gunship spun out of control, faster than the Master Chief had expected. It sailed across the highway trailing fire and debris before crashing on the other side.

"Nice shot," Kelly said appreciatively.

"The Rangers are safe," the Chief said. "Let's go."

The drain pipe was nineteen meters down, but the Spartans eschewed the ladder, opting to drop straight down. Four Spartan landings later and the concrete at the bottom was cracked. Eight Rangers, including Sergeant Barrows, were waiting. "The rest of the platoon and the wounded went ahead," the Ranger said. "I suggest we try catching up with them before the Imps drop grenades down here."

They ran as fast as they could. Grenades were the least that the enemy could drop in the sewers, and the Chief planned to be far away before they could think of anything nasty.

000

Captain Tyto looked down the drain pipe. A few of his men were taking care of the wounded and examining the dead Rangers. "They took their tags," Captain Orval observed. "Like we do."

"They're sneaky little fierfeks," Tyto said. "We should've done something about the sewage system earlier."

"Let's fix that, then," Orval said. "My men are bringing up some incendiary bombs."

Tyto smiled. "Great minds _do_ think alike."

000

Fred was at six o'clock. He was feeling a sense of dread that increased rather than decreased as they got further away from the battlefield. Then he heard it: a strange rushing sound, almost like a gust of wind. He turned, and then he saw it: a wall of flame, rushing towards them. "Chief!" he shouted. "Down!"

The Master Chief knew that even the MJOLNIR armor wouldn't withstand the flames. The Rangers would be incinerated. There was nothing else to do, and the Chief didn't favor it himself, but it was either salvation or death. He grabbed two of the Rangers and jumped into the sewage. The rest of Blue Team followed suit. Looking up through the dirty water, the Chief could see the flames overhead. It lasted a few seconds before it ended.

The group dragged itself out. "Aw, crap," one Ranger said, looking down at his filthy armor.

"You think, Iverson?" Barrows said. "Thanks Chief. But next time, I'd rather get cooked than get covered in a city's worth of sewage."

000

The attack on the city would fail if the 327th got decimated by the enemy aircraft, and Command knew it. The Imperial fighters were redirected to cover Bly's retreat, but a few were ordered to continue their attack on the UNSC fighters. Captain Darien Yage was more than content. He had nine kills today alone, and he had just spotted a Peregrine with commander's markings. He recognized the serial number. It was the same fighter that had nearly killed him yesterday.

000

Captain Derek Corbin had shot down twelve ARC-170s today. It looked like he wouldn't shoot down any more. An ARC-170 was right behind him, and he couldn't shake it off. It had commander's markings, which meant that the pilot was excellent.

_"Dragon Lead, break right and pop flares," _Odin said.

Corbin complied. The proton torpedo hit a flare and exploded with impressive force. "I can't shake him," he said. "Any fighters on this net, please assist, over."

_"Dragon Lead, no one can fire on that fighter while it's that close," _Odin said.

"Nice to know," Corbin growled. The open sky was his element, but it was his foe's element as well. He had to do something drastic. So he did. He pushed down on the stick, pointing his nose into the city itself.

000

Yage was surprised by the reckless move. He debated following him; it was very likely that the idiot would smash into a skyscraper. No, he decided. He wanted this kill for himself. He followed.

000

Corbin wondered whether he would live through this. If he did, he'd get a serious chewing-out from his commander. He'd gotten that before.

The space between the skyscrapers was surprisingly wide. It would have been crowded as well, but Odin had warned units in the city, and they stayed out of the way. But the 170 stayed stubbornly on his tail. Corbin had one last trick up his sleeve. He hoped it would work.

Reducing airspeed drastically, he pulled back on the stick, bringing the Peregrine up. He flipped upside down, and just as planned the 170 streaked under him. For a split second he could see the pilot's face. It seemed as surprised as he was.

He completed the somersault, and brought the Peregrine behind the 170. He was in gun range, and he didn't waste his opportunity. The fighter shuddered as the 25mm GAU-24 Leveler cannon fired at a rate of 10000 rounds per minute. The rounds were right on target.

000

Yage knew he was dead as soon as he passed the Peregrine. It was a reckless maneuver, but a bold one, and it had worked to Yage's detriment. Belatedly he realized that trying to brake and slow down like the enemy had been a mistake, and he should have instead increased speed and gotten out of the enemy's line of fire. It was too late now. The ARC-170 shuddered as cannon rounds pounded away at the heavy armor. The fighter lost control and spun towards the ground, slamming into a public square. There was nothing left of it.

000

_"Good kill, good kill,"_ Odin congratulated. _"Dragon Lead, return to base. Good job. Odin out."_

Corbin sighed in relief as he took the Peregrine up into open sky. There were still enemy fighters out there, but since the assault on the enemy base was wrapping up the Air Force had diverted Shadowhawks to deal with the stragglers. He'd had enough for one day.

000

On board the _New Jersey_, Admiral Paulson was growing impatient. Contact with General Warner had been reestablished, and it seemed that Asgard's defenses had been hit heavily. The good news was that the fighter attack had been beaten off, and the enemy base had been destroyed. The 327th were retreating back to Fort Green, however, along with the remaining Imperial ground forces. The fort's anti-air batteries had been reactivated; just ten minutes earlier an E/A-32 and its escorts had been shot down. There were also Imperial mobile AA batteries, the AT-AA walkers. Reports also confirmed the presence of several Self-Propelled-Medium-Artillery walkers, a smaller, more mobile artillery platform than the larger Self-Propelled-Heavy-Artillery, which was powerful enough to destroy ships. Four of these were also present, having been deployed there after a lengthy trip around the mountains. As if these weren't enough, the 327th had also deployed smaller AV-7 artillery pieces. The fort itself was too small for the Imperial troops' numbers, so it had been vastly expanded by deployable barriers and other pieces. Rounding off the defenses were several shield generators, which protected the entire area under Imperial control. Fort Green, designated by the UNSC as Fox Golf, was now a much more formidable base than the Elysium Fields base.

Paulson wanted to maneuver his heavy warships into position to bombard the shields with their MAC guns, but no one knew how much punishment the shields could take. And the Imperial fleet was still out there.

"We've lost contact with the enemy fleet, sir," Captain Choi said. "They're hiding in the Oort cloud. The entire Navy wouldn't find them in that soup."

"What do you suggest?" Paulson asked.

"Let them stay there," Choi said. "Time's on our side. In four days, Third Fleet will be here. Then the Imps will have no choice but to retreat. Then we can lay siege to the enemy ground forces until they give up."

"True, but who's to say that the Empire isn't sending reinforcements either? I say, lure them out. Force them into a confrontation with us."

"I don't see how, sir."

Paulson mulled it over. "Send a coded transmission to the Guard fleet at Madrigal. Tell them to transmit a bogus piracy alert in a code the Imps have cracked. Then we perform a puddle-jump to the edge of the system."

Choi frowned. "I don't see how they'll buy it, sir. It's an obvious trap."

"True."

"Like I said, sir: time's on our side. They'll have a limited window of attack anyway; they should know that our reinforcements are on the way. It's up to them to attack and try to reestablish control over Harvest before Third gets here. Even if they're outnumbered, they'll have a bargaining chip…and an entire planet as their hostage."

000

On board the _Imperator_, Admiral Yularen was thinking exactly that. He still had several destroyers and cruisers, and those ships had complements of troops. True, they were new clones, and they weren't as skilled as the older Jango clones, but they were still capable of fighting.

"Captain Mayar," Yularen said. "Prepare the fleet for attack."

000

Marshall Commander Bow accepted Commander Bly's salute, and shook his hand. "Bly, you've done an impressive job here."

"Thank you sir," Bly replied. "But I think I should have at least finished off the city. To think I was foiled by barely two dozen soldiers…"

"It's happened before. I've done that many times."

"So have I sir. But this is the first time it's happened to me. Now I know what those CIS commanders felt."

"Did you ID the enemy bodies you found?" Bow asked as they walked through the fort and the expanded defensive area.

"Yes sir. UNSC Army Rangers, a new unit of the UNSC Army. They appear to be troops that lead Army assaults ahead of their fellow soldiers."

"How did you know that?"

Bly held up a shoulder plate taken from one of the dead Rangers. On it was a unit badge. "Their motto is: 'Rangers lead the way'. But it appears that they weren't the only soldiers that attacked us. HUD footage shows that at least four other soldiers were present, in uniquely shielded armor. About two meters or more in height. I think we've seen them before. But the last time we did, they were our allies."

Bow remembered the UNSC propaganda posters and videos. "Spartans. Their abilities weren't exaggerated, then."

"More like 'underestimated', sir. They managed to take out twenty soldiers on their own, not to mention an AT-AA and a gunship. I heard one nearly killed Grievous, back in the war. That's just rumor, though."

"Soldiers like those can put this base in danger," Bow said, frowning.

Bly shook his head. "Our defenses are too strong. They can't—"

"Don't underestimate them," Bow warned. "They know this area—it was theirs before it was ours. Have your men search the fort, top to bottom. Look for passages, tunnels, sewer connections, anything that they can use to get inside. Then plug them up."

"Sir! Yes sir!" Bly said. He went off immediately.

Bow then contacted another Commander. "Rex, get here fast."

Commander CC-7657 "Rex" had been the former commander of Torrent Company and was now the commander of the 501st's First Tactical Battalion, an elite group within the Legion consisting of over eleven hundred veteran troopers and the best gunship and vehicle crews. "Reporting as ordered, sir!" Rex said.

"There are four enemy special forces soldiers that pose a serious threat to us." Bow forwarded the HUD footage stills of the Spartans in action. "They're called Spartans. There are at least four of them. When they get here—and make no mistake, they will—I want you to capture them if you can, but kill if you can't. Understood?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Dismissed." Bow watched Rex walk away. He'd have rather given this mission to the commando brigades, but they had taken a heavy hit and were currently with the fleet, recuperating. Rex's battalion was the next best thing.

000

"Here they come," Paulson said. The TAC screen showed several Imperial ships coming towards them on the opposite side of the planet. "Captain, prepare to meet them head on."

"Aye sir." Choi didn't agree with all this 'head on' crap, but orders were orders. And he wanted to destroy the Imperial menace as much as anyone. "All ahead full. WEP, remain on standby."

The UNSC task force moved forward, eager to finish off the Empire. Then, TAC noticed something. "Captain, the Imperial fleet is…smaller."

"Of course it is, Lieutenant," Choi said, even though he walked over to see for himself. "We were partially responsible."

"It's not that, sir. It's smaller since last contact. Only about forty ships, all frigates or destroyers. The enemy flagship is absent."

Choi turned to Paulson. "This is the bait that we're supposed to take."

Paulson nodded. "Inform the rear guard. Tell them to be on the lookout for attacks from behind."

"Aye sir."

000

Admiral Yularen examined the feed coming from the ARC-170's cams. "It appears that our attempts to fool them have failed."

"But they're still going on the attack," Captain Mayar noted. "That means we can still continue with the original plan."

"Agreed."

On the dark side of the planet, the rest of Saber Fleet's heavy warships maneuvered to attack the UNSC fleet from behind. If the maneuver was successful, the UNSC fleet wouldn't be destroyed, but it would sustain enough damage to tip the balance back into Imperial hands.

000

In Asgard City, sensors manned by Navy personnel scanned the sky and the stars beyond. They relayed real-time information to the ships in orbit. One of those ships was the Marathon-Class cruiser _Athens_, commanded by Captain Timothy Hawkins. He was in charge of the rear guard. "Excalibur, say again your last."

_"_Athens_, you are in serious danger. Forty Imperial warships are converging on you. Repeat, forty, as in four-zero."_

"Copy, Excalibur." He contacted _New Jersey_. "Sir, it's definitely a trap. I can't guarantee the safety of the rear."

_"Copy that, _Athens_. A few ships will be joining you. We'll blow apart the weaker ships, slingshot-orbit around the planet, and hit them in the ass."_

"Copy." Hawkins shook his head. "I need the main force _here_, dammit." He gave the order for the rear guard to hold position and charge their MAC guns. Excalibur continued to feed the fleet information on the Imperial fleet's movements.

Hawkins's XO, Commander Sean Hannigan, said, "Skipper, the only way we'll do any damage to that enemy force is if their shields are downed first. Otherwise we don't stand a chance."

Hawkins nodded. "That's what I was afraid you'd say." After a pause, Hawkins made up his mind. "WEP, arm all our Shiva nukes. Target the incoming enemy ships."

The Shiva-Class nuclear missile was a thermonuclear warhead with an explosive yield equal to 1.171 teratons of TNT. It was usually a last resort weapon, to be used when heavily outnumbered or when the tactical situation demanded it. Hawkins considered both criteria to be fulfilled in this case.

Still, Hannigan had doubts. "Sir, if those missiles detonate, the EMP will hit the surface of the planet."

"I know," Hawkins said. "It's a risk worth taking. If we're defeated, there's no saving Harvest anyway."

"Missiles are armed," WEP announced.

"Fire," Hawkins said without hesitation. To Hannigan he whispered: "I sure as hell hope that our boys don't have any units up in the air."

The missiles streaked towards their targets. The Imperial gunners detected the missiles and point defense weapons began blazing on all their ships. Three of the missiles got through and detonated. Fighters were vaporized, smaller ships crashed into bigger ones, and shields went down throughout the enemy formation. On the surface of the planet, however, the EMP hit.

000

General Frank Warner was standing in the middle of the dark ops center, talking to his staff. The only lights came from the portable computers they were using. Warner was listening to ideas on how to destroy Fort Green, when suddenly everything went dark.

"What the hell just happened?" Warner said in the pitch black. "Power surge?"

"Unknown," said an officer.

Without warning, a Peregrine fell past the nearest window and slammed into the streets. As if on cue, anything that had been flying started crashing. Dropships, gunships and fighters all crashed. "EMP," Tarkov said. "Damn. Must be a new Imperial weapon."

"Unlikely, sir," said another officer. "No missiles were detected, and our perimeter wasn't breached."

"Maybe the Navy used a nuke," said yet another officer. "That would explain the EMP."

Warner went to the roof, grabbing a pair of binoculars from a Marine. Marines and soldiers were checking their gear, complaining that the HUDs wouldn't work. Warner ignored all of them and trained the binoculars up into the night sky. Far above, explosions could be seen, and fast moving bright spots indicated MAC rounds, missiles and turbolaser rounds crisscrossing. But in the center was a bright glow like a second sun that slowly faded away. "The Navy did use a nuke. Goddamn morons. We're defenseless. Colonel Green, send runners around. Find someone with a working 'Hog that can get to Valhalla and find out if they're having the same problems. Then get technicians to work our generators. Also, find the Spartans and tell them to report here immediately."

000

There was no way for Warner to have known, but Marshal Commander Bow was in similar straits. The EMP had disabled the active artillery and anti-air batteries, and the shields were gone. The HUDs weren't working either. "Well," said Commander Bly, "if they wanted us to be weak enough for them to attack, they've got their wish."

"Status on the vehicles," Bow said.

"The EMP fried a lot of them, and the technicians can't fix the others."

"Why?"

"Their tools are of the powered type."

Bow groaned. "Continue."

"The vehicles that were off when the EMP went off should be able to work, but they need our com tags to turn on, and those aren't working now. So I'm getting men to try and hotwire them. If they're successful, we'll have a force of walkers and nothing more. All the gunships flying patrol have crashed. Most of the crews have been rescued, but most of the larties won't fly again and the ones we could've repaired will have to sit there until we can get our recover vehicles to work."

A technician ran up. "Sirs, we've found the fort's generators. They were disabled before we took it, and we didn't bother trying to repair them since we brought our own. But if we can fix the fort's generators, we can get enough power for some lights. And maybe we can get the com arrays to work as well."

"Good thinking, trooper," Bow said. "Get to work."

000

The Master Chief had known something was wrong when the power in the Spartans' quarters—located in an old hotel—went out. He'd deduced correctly that it had been an EMP. It was a good thing, then, that they'd been sleeping and their suits were off. Without delay they put their armor back on, and the Chief was gratified to see that everything worked.

There were no working vehicles, so the Spartans jogged towards HQ. "If it's an EMP, we must've lost a lot of air units," Fred said. "That'll suck for the Air Force."

"Especially if they had a few Shadowhawks up," Kelly added.

"Harper's Field is several miles away," the Master Chief said, referring to the Air Force's primary airfield on Harvest. "If they're lucky, the units there won't be affected."

Linda, who was on point, suddenly stopped. Someone was jogging towards them. "Sparrow!" she challenged. If the man didn't respond, he'd be shot.

"Javelin!" the man answered. He lowered his assault rifle. "Damn, am I lucky," the Marine said. "I wasn't thrilled about running all the way to your quarters."

"General Warner wants us, right?" the Master Chief asked. "We were on the way."

"Good. Don't let me keep you, Chief." He jogged off, presumably to contact other units. On the way, a few civilians appeared, the ones who had chosen to stay behind rather than leave.

One laughed. "You guys can't do shit, can you? You can't even keep the power on!"

"Go suck on a railroad spike," the Marine replied without slowing down.

They finally reached Warner's command center, now lit by glow rods and construction lights connected to a few generators. "Spartan Blue Team, reporting as ordered, sir!" the Chief announced.

Warner turned towards the Chief. "Good, now we have a chance. Chief, we're about to launch a surprise assault on Fort Green. Not to retake the base, mind you. We're going to sabotage their armor. You'll be going on ahead, doing recon with a few Navy Commandos. You'll be supported by the 19th Shock Battalion, led by Colonel Tarkov. While Tarkov's men distract the enemy, you and the commandos will go about setting charges on their vehicles. Tarkov has a secondary objective of dealing as much damage to the fort's outer defenses as he can."

"Will we have air support, sir? Armor?"

"The Fourth Mechanized is being brought up from Valhalla as we speak, and we've ascertained that Harper's Field is operational. If all our assets were working, I'd have made this our final assault. But we don't have enough working armor right now thanks to the morons in the Navy—no offense—and I don't know exactly how many troops the Imps have at Fort Green anyway, other than that they number in the tens of thousands, perhaps as much as sixty thousand."

The Chief frowned. This was a reckless attack, and not well thought out. "Sir, with all due respect, it would be much easier if just my team infiltrated and destroyed their armor."

"Impossible. Their security is good. Maybe too good."

"My team can slip in, no problem," the Chief insisted. "And now that their electronics are down, it'll be even easier."

Lt. Cmdr. Barclay and Colonel Tarkov fixed Warner with an _I told you so_ look. Warner sighed. "We'll do it your way, Chief. But you will be joined by commandos. That's non-negotiable. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

000

The convoy of six troop transport Warthogs stopped a few miles away from Fort Green and deposited four Spartans and twenty commandos. There were three two-man teams and six four-man teams of commandos, designated as Teams 90, 57, 88, 23, 99, 37, 34, 12, and 06, respectively. 90 and 57 were sniper teams, while 88 was in charge of the portable rig that controlled the F99 Hammerhead UCAV that the Navy had lent them. It was one of the few drones that had been working when the Empire had invaded, and the Navy had been keeping them in reserve for emergencies. This certainly qualified. The Hammerhead was armed with six AGM missiles. Once those were exhausted, another Hammerhead would replace the first, which would return to its carrier to refit, refuel and rearm.

Blue Team and Teams 23, 99, 37, 34, 12, and 06 were charged with infiltrating the base through various paths. The Spartans' path took then straight through several enemy patrols. It wasn't something the Master Chief was unfamiliar with.

They crawled onto a hill south of the base. "Whoa," Fred said. "That's a lot of tangos."

He was right. Viewed through Linda's thermal scope feed in the corner of the Chief's HUD, the base and the surrounding area seemed like a huge white blotch buzzing with activity against a dead grey backdrop. "Shark, are you getting this?" the Chief asked Lt. Cmdr. Barclay, who was quarterbacking the mission from the inside of a modified Cougar.

_"Affirmative, Blue Lead,"_ Barclay responded. _"88 is keeping an eye on them. Proceed with the mission. Shark out."_

The other commandos' missions were just distractions. The real mission would be carried out by Blue Team: the sabotage of the Empire's main walkers. Proceeding on foot, the teams approached their designated entry points.

Blue Team's entry point appeared to be a heavily guarded checkpoint. At least twenty storm troopers were there, faceless T-visors sweeping the landscape. They had lit a fire, most likely because their tac-lights weren't working. These had the yellow markings of the 327thth Star Corps.

Linda was still on the hill, surveying the area with her sniper scope. "I can spot twenty tangos, Blue Lead. They seem extra ready for something."

It made sense. With the EMP disabling most of their equipment, the Empire was anticipating an attack when they were most vulnerable. "Blue Lead to Shark: proceeding to enter the base."

The Mark VI MJOLNIR Armor System was a work of art, but until recently it had not incorporated active camouflage, a system that rendered the user nearly invisible. It was a reverse-engineered Covenant technology, which was in turn reverse-engineered from Forerunner technology. In the dark, the user was as good as invisible, although the system could be detected at close range.

The Chief looked at his hands to make sure the active camo was working. Because of the number of technologies already incorporated into the Mk VI system, the camo only lasted for about thirty seconds. That was why he decided that they would enter only one at a time. His hands became transparent as he looked at them. "Blue Lead, entering the base in ten seconds." He stood up and moved carefully, a half-ton giant that was only a slight distortion. With great caution he slipped past the guards, hiding in an alcove to the side. He was followed by Kelly, who simply dashed into the base, and Fred came last, much slower than the Chief.

"Blue Lead to Shark: we've entered Fox Golf. Proceeding to primary objective."

_"Team 23, entering the base."_

_"Team 99 here. We've entered Fox Golf."_

_"37 to Shark: entering Fox Golf."_

_"34 here. We've encountered enemy patrols. Evading now."_

_"Team 12 to Shark: we've entered the base. Proceeding to objective."_

_"Team 06 here. We're in."_

_"Shark copies all. Good luck. Out."_

The Spartans proceeded towards the vehicle depot. The other teams were moving towards the ammo stores, the generators, and the fuel dumps, among other things. One team, 06, was moving to the com arrays. Imperial communications arrays were hardened against EMPs, and it was a safe bet that the enemy coms were working. The UNSC forces, on the other hand, were limited to a twenty-mile radius around Barclay's Cougar, and all communications were being routed through him. That meant that if the Empire took out the command vehicle, the commandos and Spartans wouldn't be able to communicate with each other or Command. In fact, the only way they were currently able to communicate to Command was a relay of Cougars and Warthogs stretching all the way back to Asgard, and messengers on Mongoose ATVs were on standby should the relay fail at any point. The relay was being protected by ODSTs from the 19th and 7th Battalions. Command hoped that the Imperials wouldn't find out.

"I see them," Fred said quietly. He pointed to a vast yard of AT-TE walkers. On the far end were four much larger quadruped walkers that seemed much more powerful than the Tactical Enforcers encountered so far. "What the hell are those?"

"Don't know," the Chief said. "Probably prototype walkers."

"We're taking those out too?"

The Chief examined the area where the four walkers were. They were being better protected than the other walkers, and if they entered the area, they would be too exposed. "No. Too risky. We'll take out these walkers here."

"Copy," Fred said, slightly disappointed.

They infiltrated the yard. Patrols were aplenty here, but the walkers themselves provided cover, and there were plenty of crates to hide behind. They started setting charges on several of the AT-TEs.

_"Team 37 to Shark: we did the fuel dumps. Pulling back to a safe distance."_

_"Team 06 here. We've planted the C-17 on the com array."_

_"Team 12 here. We're in the ammo stores. They won't like what we've left here."_

_"Team 34 here. We're done with the barracks. Exfiltrating now."_

_"99 here. We've completed our objective. Proceeding to exfil point."_

_"23 to Shark: we're exfiltrating. Be advised, we may have been compromised."_

That last transmission was cause for worry. _"Shark to 23, say again your last."_

_"A tango might have seen us. We gave him the slip, though."_

_"Proceed with caution, 23. Blue Team, what's your status?"_

"We're finishing up here, Shark," the Master Chief replied.

_"Shark copies. Out."_

000

Commander Bow sifted through reports. His mind wasn't on them, though; he was still afraid of enemy infiltration. His rifle was close at hand, just in case. His instincts were screaming at him, instincts he'd learned to obey a long time ago.

A trooper came in. "TK-223 reporting, sir."

The trooper was one of the new natural-born storm troopers, a recruit rather than a clone. "What is it, trooper?" Bow asked.

"Sir, one of my men thought he spotted something in Sector Four. I sent my squad to search the area, but we didn't find anything. I'm not so sure that we're in the clear, however."

Bow frowned. He had a bad feeling about this. "Continue the search, trooper. Dismissed." When he left, Bow contacted Commander Rex. "Search the entire base, top to bottom. Report anything out of the ordinary."

000

Soon, the only UNSC personnel still in Fox Golf were the Spartans. There were a lot of walkers here, and not enough explosives. So they had instead rigged a few using enemy ordnance. Linda contacted them urgently: "Blue Lead, I see a platoon of tangos heading your way. Recommend you wrap up and get the hell out of there."

"Agreed. Blue Team, move out. Blue Three, maintain position." The last order was directed at Linda. "Blue Team to Shark: we're exfiltrating. Be advised, we're encountering more enemy patrols."

_"Shark copies."_

Kelly took point this time, silenced MA4A SOPMOD raised at the ready. Linda gave instructions to avoid the patrols, telling them to go left, right, or to stay in place for a while. Suddenly, she said, "Hold up! Hide somewhere!"

The Spartans melted into the shadows. A company of storm troopers in the blue of the 501st Legion appeared. They were wearing upgraded and personalized armor, which meant that they were part of an elite subdivision of the 501st. "Fan out," one barked. "Eyes open."

The troopers moved cautiously, examining each and every dark corner. "Blue Lead, they're coming awfully close…" Linda warned.

The Chief could see that. He could also see that they couldn't avoid detection. "Plan B." He took out a detonator and clicked it.

As explosions went, it wasn't the most spectacular display for a group of Spartans that had blown up capital ships and entire cities. But it was impressive nonetheless. AT-TEs exploded one after the other, sending pieces of charred metal high up into the sky. The troopers searching for the Spartans were startled, which gave the latter their opening.

With little warning the Spartans jumped out and opened fire. Four troopers went down. The rest returned fire expertly, pushing them back into their hiding spots. The difference now was that they knew where the Spartans were hiding. "Blue Lead to Shark, we've been compromised," the Chief said calmly. He peeked out, then cursed quietly as a volley of blaster fire sizzled past his helmet.

_"Shark copies, Blue Lead."_ Barclay sounded irritated rather than worried. _"Team 88, provide Blue Team with Hammerhead support."_

High in the sky, the F-99 Hammerhead UCAV finally made its presence known. A missile screeched towards the ground, smashing into a patrol headed to cut off the Spartans' retreat. _"Ten plus foot-mobiles KIA,"_ said a satisfied commando.

Linda was firing as fast as she could. The SRS99D sent another 12.7mm Armor-Piercing-Fin-Stabilized-Discarding-Sabot round through the head of yet another storm trooper. She was moving faster than ever before.

The commando sniper teams also responded to Blue Team's plight. Sniper fire seemed to be coming from all sides for the Imperial troops, who were becoming extremely confused. To add to the confusion, Teams 37, 06, 12 and 34 detonated their charges, turning the fuel dump, com array, ammo store and barracks into balls of flame. Pandemonium reigned supreme.

Nevertheless, the Spartans were moving slower than the Chief would have liked. The elite storm troopers weren't as good as ARCs or commandos, but they were pretty damned close. At one point, three of them managed to whittle the Chief's shields to a millimeter, until he was rescued by Linda and Kelly. "Change of plan," the Chief said, pointing to a barricade that stood between them and freedom. "Blue Team to Team 88: target these coordinates. Danger close."

_"Copy, Blue Team. Fire mission, danger close."_

Another AGM separated from the Tiger, blasting the barricade apart. "Blue Team: go go go!" the Chief urged. "Through the smoke!"

The Spartans ran. Behind them, the elite storm troopers began firing through the smoke. One bolt hit the Chief square in the back. He stumbled, but got back up, firing blindly behind him. The fire dropped off after a while. Maybe the storm troopers had orders not to pursue. Maybe they were trying to contact their superiors to find out whether or not they should. Either way, the Chief was grateful.

The convoy of Warthogs was waiting for them. The commando teams were already inside. Once the Spartans were on board, the 'Hogs roared off. The Cougar-'Hog relay set also packed up and left, taking the ODSTs with them. The mission was over.

000

Commander Rex cursed loudly. His men had been within a hair's breadth of neutralizing the Spartans. Instead, the supersoldiers had escaped.

Commander Bly removed his helmet and ran his hand through his hair, a sign of exasperation. He stared at the fires. "Four soldiers did all _this_?"

Bow appeared. "No. There must have been several teams. Apparently our security isn't good enough. Casualties?"

"Torrent Company lost seven," Rex said. "I don't know about the rest. Our coms are down."

"We must have at least seventy dead," Bly said. "They took out the barracks. And they had air support which took out more. They seemed to have concentrated on our armor."

Colonel Veers appeared, wielding a blaster rifle. "Commander Bow. What is going on, sir? Almost all my armor is in pieces or on fire."

"What do you think?" Bow snarled. He had no patience for anything right now. "What's left?"

"The prototype walkers are intact. Thirty AT-TEs are intact as well. The rest are unsalvageable."

Bow took a monocular and trained it on the night sky above. Imperial optics devices were much more powerful than standard UNSC binoculars, and Bow could make out the shapes of the ships in the sky. Triangular star destroyers were retreating from the blocky shapes of UNSC warships. "It looks like we can't expect any support from the Navy. Our position is untenable. I can see only two options: retreat, or surrender. Since we can't retreat to any ship, and the Navy can't extract us, we might just have to surrender."

Bly shook his head. "We can't let that happen. We should do something!"

Bow raised an eyebrow. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Attack Asgard with all our current force. Hold enough of the city to force a deal. Force them to guarantee our troops safe passage back to Imperial space."

"With the four AT-ATs, I might be able to punch a hole in their defenses," Veers said. "If we can follow it up with fighter tanks, and push infantry and Tactical Enforcers through that hole, we can wreak enough havoc to seize most of the city."

Rex nodded. "Sir, we won't have to hold back. Reports indicate that most of the civilian population was evacuated a long time ago."

"They have air support," Bow reminded them all. "A convoy of armor and infantry would make a nice, fat target for them." Bly and Veers winced at the memory of the A-24s.

"The enemy wasn't able to destroy much of the AT-AA force," Rex said. "They went for the Tactical Enforcers, probably because they know that we can't really touch their larger bombers with them. We have a lot of gunships, though, and they make a decent substitute for fighters. Put some high in the atmosphere, above the clouds, and they can take out the bombers, or at least distract them until we're close enough to the city that they can't use them. The AT-AAs can protect the convoy from their fighters."

An engineer ran up. "Sirs, we managed to get the vehicles working again."

Rex smiled. "See? Things are looking up already."

000

Up in space, Admiral Yularen once again ordered a retreat to the edge of the system. Much of his once-mighty fleet was in tatters. But the enemy fleet had also sustained high casualties. The remnants of the UNSC task force resumed their guard over the planet. Of the seventy-nine ships that the enemy had started with, only thirty-nine were left. Saber Fleet had lost over sixty ships, but they still had fifty left. If they could attack again without losing so much, there was a small chance that they could force the UNSC into a retreat. Then he could begin landing the fresh troops onto Harvest. There was the matter of the UNSC reinforcements that were surely on their way, however. This group appeared to be only a rapid reaction force.

"Sir," said Captain Mayar. "You have a secure channel to Imperial Center."

Darth Vader's ominous shape appeared in the life-size hologram. _"Report, Admiral Yularen."_

"Lord Vader," Yularen began, "We have taken heavy losses, but we're still able to hold our positions. However, it might become necessary for additional reinforcements to be called in."

_"I am disappointed, Admiral. I was under the impression that you would be able to do your job efficiently."_

"It is unfortunate, but it appears that Intelligence severely underestimated the enemy." Yularen knew his neck was on the line. If someone else's neck had to be sacrificed in order for him to keep his own, so be it.

_"Your relief force will be dispatched shortly. It will be small. You will make do with it. Dismissed."_

As the hologram faded, Yularen frowned. "It is almost as if he's expecting us to fail.

Mayar frowned as well. "Why do you say that, sir?"

"He usually says 'Do not fail me', but not this time."

000

Admiral Paulson shook his head at the casualties. The enemy's trap had failed, but it had cost him forty ships and a lot of good men and women. The only thing good to be said was that the Imperials had retreated again. But they still outnumbered his fleet.

"Where the hell is Captain Hawkins?" Paulson asked. "I'd like to speak with him."

A disheveled-looking Commander entered the bridge instead. "Captain Hawkins is severely injured, sir. He ordered me to take his place."

"You are?"

"Commander Sean Hannigan, sir."

"Hannigan, why the hell did you fire off those nukes?"

"Sir, we were outnumbered, outgunned, and the rest of our heavy guns were on the other side of the planet. To prevent our total annihilation, and to prevent the main force from being flanked as per our orders, Captain Hawkins ordered that the nuclear missiles be used." It was clear that Commander Hannigan had prepared this response for just this moment.

"Did he consider that the EMP would fry the communications and the equipment of our people on the ground?"

"Aye sir. He felt it was a risk worth taking, in light of what would most likely happen if our fleet was destroyed."

Paulson held his eyes on Hannigan for a long time. Finally he said, "Return to your post, Commander. Dismissed."

Captain Choi waited for Hannigan to leave before saying, "We've reestablished contact with Excalibur, sir."

Paulson sat up. "And? What's their status?"

"They've got most of their gear up and working, and they're being reinforced by units from Valhalla. They're also very pissed because of the whole nuke thing."

"Too bad," Paulson said.

"They also report that they managed to sabotage most of the enemy's armor."

"During an EMP? I'm impressed. Will they attack?"

"No sir. They feel that Fox Golf is too heavily fortified to attack. They're waiting for the Imps to come to them."

Paulson shrugged. "Let them do what they want. I'm not a ground-pounder. Make sure the fleet is prepared for round three."

"Aye sir."

00000


	9. Chapter 9

Captain Warren Coughlin deftly guided his A-24 just 200 meters over the ground, followed by several of his fellow Berkut drivers. It was bright morning, and scouts had reported seeing a massive Imperial convoy on the move. Their apparent target was Asgard. Rather than letting the Imps smash themselves to bits against the city's defenses, the Air Force had decided that it was time to slam them from afar. This involved a flight A-24s that would destroy the front and back ends of the convoy, rendering it immobile, and a finishing blow by two B-709s.

"30 seconds to target," Coughlin said over the com. He pulled back on the stick to gain altitude. That's when things began to go wrong.

It almost seemed like the forty A-24s had ran right into a wall of cannon fire and missiles. The cannon fire and missiles in question were courtesy of Imperial AT-AAs and PLEX-AA Anti-Air missile launcher-equipped storm troopers. Five A-24s exploded immediately. Four more spiraled out of control, crashing far off.

"Abort abort abort!" Coughlin shouted into his com as his Berkut took fire and shuddered. The surviving A-24s retreated as fast as they had arrived, leaving behind an additional six aircraft to the nine they'd lost before. "Excalibur, this is Falcon Lead. The enemy has massive AA support. Advise that the bombers be called off."

_"Can't be done, Falcon Lead; the bombers are already on station. Are you sure that you cannot attack the convoy?"_

"That's affirmative, Excalibur."

_"Return to base. Excalibur out."_

The one mistake that the UNSC commanders made was that they assumed—correctly—that the Empire had no fighters in atmosphere. What they wrongly assumed was that the Empire didn't have the capability to knock out their bombers.

High in the sky above, Hammer One and Hammer Two prepared to line up on their targets. The convoy was still on the move since Falcon Flight hadn't been able to halt it, but it was moving slowly enough that the B-709s could still hit it. The crews were concentrating too hard to notice the blips on their radar until it was too late.

Ten LAAT/i gunships soared out of the clouds. Five were tasked for each bomber. The B-709s ran into a wall of cannon fire and missiles, much as their comrades in the A-24s had. It was a slaughter.

000

In the command center in Asgard, what had seemed to be an inevitable victory had turned into a disaster. _"Mayday, mayday, mayday! This is Hammer One! We're going down!"_

_"Hammer Two to Excalibur, we've been hit! We're going down hard!"_

General Warner slammed a fist onto a table. "Where the hell did those fighters come from?"

"Working on it, sir," said the Air Force officer. He was already directing Peregrine fighters to the area, for all the good it did. They shouldn't have ever let their guard down.

Lt. Gen. Vanderbilt said, "We won't get another B-709 up before that convoy reaches the city."

"I guess we're doing this the hard way," Warner said.

000

Colonel Veers was happier than he'd been since he'd landed on Harvest. Sitting in the control center of an All-Terrain-Armored-Transport had an appeal of its own. The height and the cannons on the "head" of the AT-AT gave one a feeling of power and overall invincibility. Being covered in armor didn't hurt either.

"We're being targeted by UNSC artillery," said the driver.

"Push on forward," Veers said. "Their artillery will have to work hard to get through our armor."

He was right. 105mm shells rained all around them, but the advancing AT-ATs simply shrugged off the few that hit them.

"Enemy armor," the driver warned.

"Target them and fire."

The gunner complied. A barrage of powerful laser cannon fire wrecked a squad of four Scorpion tanks. They were nearing the wall the UNSC had set up to slow them down. They might as well have done nothing; fire from the four AT-ATs blasted a wide hole in the wall, and Imperial troops and fighter tanks poured in through the breach.

On the ground leading the charge, Commander Bly directed his men, heedless of the explosions and bullets whizzing past him. "Take out that machine gun nest! Mark it for walker fire, then move into the buildings! Watch for sniper fire!"

UNSC regular Marines were defending this corner. They responded to the attack fiercely, but the AT-ATs and the smaller AT-TEs were forcing them back fast. Within fifteen minutes the Imperials had fully exploited the breach in the outer defenses and had penetrated deep into East Asgard.

Commander Rex's battalion went past Bly. The elite soldiers of the 501st Legion's best unit pushed through UNSC barricades with seeming ease. Fighter tanks assisted them, and soon the UNSC had been pushed back to the Thor River Bridge, the bridge that connected both halves of the capital.

000

General Warner refused to evacuate. The Command Center was in West Asgard, and the UNSC still had control of the bridge. "Green! Status!"

"We still have the bridge, sir," Colonel Green said. "The 19th Battalion is holding them off. I've ordered the 32nd Cav to peel off a few Cougars to help them out, and the 302nd Armored has send eight Kodiaks. I don't think they can hold for long, though. Those new damned super-walkers the Imps have are just tearing through our defenses. We'll need the A-24s to do something about it."

"Negative," said the commander in charge of the artillery. "My arty rounds didn't do squat against that armor. B-709s are the way to go. Flatten 'em."

"But we still have troops on the other side," Lt. Gen. Vanderbilt said. "I don't want to bomb them as well."

"We also have reports that the Imps have set up AA batteries along the east bank," said Brig. Gen. Ryan. "They've already shot down a bunch of my gunships."

There was only one group of people Warner could think to take out those AA batteries, and he contacted them. "Blue Team, come in. What's your status?"

The Master Chief responded. _"We're with the 19th, holding at the eastern end of the TRB."_

"Son, there's a bank of AA guns that are preventing us from targeting the bridge. I want you to take them out."

_"Sir, I don't believe we can do that without support."_

"Put Colonel Tarkov on the line."

_"Tarkov here."_

"Colonel, you will soon be relieved by units from the 77th Ranger Battalion. Once they're on station, you and Blue Team will take out those AA guns. Understood?"

_"Affirmative, sir. Just waiting on the Rangers now."_

Green approached Warner. "Sir, the 101st Infantry Division and the 98th Mechanized have managed to slow down the enemy advance in the east, but they report that the enemy is beginning to flank them."

"Tell them to hold as long as they can. We need to buy the ODSTs and the Spartans some time."

Vanderbilt approached them. "My Shadowhawks are standing by, sir. If anything, now's the time to use them."

Warner nodded. "Put them in the air. Any AA batteries the ODSTs and the Spartans can't get to, your people will take them out. Let's hope those birds are as stealthy as you say they are."

000

Captain Derek Corbin, UNSC Air Force, ace fighter pilot, could not stand being on the ground. His Peregrine had been pushed to the edge of its capabilities the other day; with all the damage to the fighter, the techs had been amazed that he'd made it back to base. So now he was grounded. With Imperials in Asgard kicking the ground-pounders' butts, Corbin was frustrated at his inability to do anything.

Major Elaine Powers ran into his bunk room. "Corbin, I want you right now."

"Wha?" was Corbin's reply. It didn't impress Powers.

"Dumbass. That's not want I meant. One of my pilots is injured. I heard you were a good Peregrine pilot, and I heard how you performed. So I want you to fly my guy's bird."

Corbin had to let that sink in. Powers was the flight leader of Ghost Squadron. Ghost Squadron had the best pilots on Harvest, and they flew the coveted new fighter, the F-118 Shadowhawk, a stealth fighter that had made quite an impression during the Clone Wars. "What about my squadron?"

Powers raised an eyebrow. "Dragon Lead doesn't have faith in his guys?"

"No, ma'am, it's not that. I'm not all that thrilled about leaving them to some other guy."

"Well, you'll just have to deal with it. You'll be Ghost Three. Get off your ass and get in that fighter. I hope you can handle a Shadowhawk."

For the first time today, Corbin smiled. "Can't be harder than a Peregrine, can it?"

000

Colonel Tarkov spoke to the Master Chief. "We'll lead. You follow."

The massive green monster shook its head. "Negative, sir. You can't expose yourself. We have advantages you don't."

Tarkov was seconds away from ordering the Spartan to remove his helmet so he could bonk him. "And what advantages do you have?"

"Shields, sir. We can also move faster."

"Meaning…?"

"We can get to the further AA batteries before you, sir."

Tarkov understood. "That means that you'll lead and we'll have to follow."

"Doesn't reflect on your fighting abilities, sir. ODSTs have gotten my team out of a lot of tough situations before."

"So in case you get in trouble, you'll call us," Tarkov said, finally understanding. "Heh. You would have made a fine diplomat. Done."

Not all the ODSTs left. In fact, only one company led by Captain Coady followed Blue Team. At first, the enemy opposition was light; only ten soldiers guarded the first AT-AA. A volley of automatic fire and the Spartans' and ODSTs' superior numbers ensured that the opposition didn't even get a chance to defend themselves. As the first AT-AA blew up from charges set by the ODSTs, one Marine said, "Way too easy. These turkeys didn't even see us coming."

"Don't get cocky!" Coady said. "The next one's going to be harder."

"Take out the next one, sir," the Master Chief said. "My team'll skip to the next one."

"What about the ones further off?"

"We'll take care of those as well, sir. A smaller team stands a better chance of getting through, and getting back."

"I see. Good luck, Spartans. Don't come back until all those batteries are destroyed."

"Aye sir," the Chief said. "Blue Team, let's move out."

The four Spartans sped off, their speed beyond that any normal human possessed. Coady watched them go with regret. Despite the traditional dislike for the Spartans, and the number of times he and his ODSTs had called them freaks, there was no doubt that they were the best warriors in the UNSC. There was also something human underneath all that armor, the concern for their fellow soldiers, their willingness to take on even the most dangerous missions. There was something there that any ODST could respect.

"OK, Alpha Company!" Coady shouted. "Let's get the next one!"

The seventy-five ODSTs moved out. The second AT-AA was protected by a platoon of regular storm troopers in addition to the ten original guards. And they were ready. Blaster fire greeted the ODSTs, and three of them fell.

"Get into cover!" said Coady. "Toss grenades, then fire!"

The ODSTs responded as ordered. About a dozen frag grenades bounced over the Imperial barricades, detonating at their feet. The enemy blaster fire slowed. The ODSTs used the opportunity to lay down their own covering fire, allowing several troopers to advance closer. These jumped over the barricades, engaging the Imperials directly in hand-to-hand combat. The fighting was brutal, and five more ODSTs died, but soon the shock troopers gained the upper hand. They then charged the AT-AA, engaging the remaining guards. Within minutes, it was over. A few charges later, and the AT-AA exploded.

"Regroup," Coady said. "Fall back to the bridge."

Coady's XO, a Second Lieutenant named Blaine, depolarized his visor so that Coady could see his confusion. "Sir, what about the Spartans?"

"They made it clear that they're better off on their own, and those Army boys on the bridge will need our help. So let's get back there."

000

The Master Chief was glad that Kelly had decided to slow down enough that the rest of the team could keep up. All the Spartans could run faster and longer than a normal human at peak health, but Kelly could run at bursts of sixty-two kilometers per hour, and her reaction times were faster than any Spartan. When she sparred with her fellow Spartans, she had to slow down considerably; it had been said that she wouldn't let anyone touch her if she didn't want them to.

Kelly's speed ensured that she took point. She held an M7 SMG in each hand, and a rocket launcher on her back. Fred was behind her. He had slung his battle rifle and was sprinting as fast as he could to keep up with Kelly. Further back, the Master Chief kept his assault rifle out, preferring to stay prepared than keeping up with Kelly. Occasionally he ordered her to slow down, so that the team could regroup. Linda was watching their six, a position she wasn't totally comfortable with. She preferred to be a lone wolf, stalking her prey from a high elevation. But the Chief had made it clear that she played according to team rules when required.

They emerged in a square that seemed implausibly untouched by the war, lined with sakura trees in full bloom. Set against this was another contradiction: an AT-AA walker, guarded by two companies of Imperial troops. Opposition was steadily increasing as they moved forward.

"I'm thinking we could've done with ODST support, Chief," Fred said.

The Chief agreed, but didn't say so. He'd taken on a similar number of Covenant troops on his own. It wasn't something he liked to do, but there was little choice in this case. And he had three Spartans with him this time. "Linda, get in that building over there. Avoid getting seen. Kelly, you'll be the rabbit; get their attention while Fred and I move in close and engage them close up."

Linda nodded and dashed to a building that overlooked the area, making sure to keep out of sight. The Imperial troops were looking apprehensively at the sky, looking for UNSC aircraft or gunships. One did appear: a turboprop UH-144 Falcon gunship from the Army. The Falcon fired its chin-mounted chaingun, cutting down two storm troopers before a combination of shoulder-launched rockets and fire from the walker's main cannon blasted it to pieces.

Fred looked at the Chief. "No way we can take out that walker and get away clean. And there's another walker we need to take out after this one. Call in artillery?"

"No," the Chief replied. "That was my first choice, but all the artillery is engaged. No air support for obvious reasons. We have no choice but to take out this one and fight our way past these guys and to the next one."

000

Corbin had been right. Flying the F-118 was not harder than flying an F-151. In fact, the Shadowhawk was much easier to fly than the Peregrine. Compared to the Shadowhawk, the Peregrine was chunky and inelegant. It didn't hurt that the Shadowhawk was quite possibly the best-looking fighter in the UNSC arsenal. _Eat your heart out, Navy,_ Corbin thought. The closest the Navy had was the ungainly-looking F/A-32 Spatha, and Corbin was quite sure it paled in comparison to the F-118.

_"Ghost Three, are you enjoying yourself?"_ Major Powers asked.

"If you need to ask that question, Ghost Lead, you obviously don't appreciate this triumph of engineering," Corbin replied.

_"Agreed," _said Ghost Two.

_"Cut the chatter, Two,"_ Powers snapped. _"Eyes up. Odin says that there are enemy fighters up. Intel says they're old V-19 Torrents, but don't underestimate them; they can fire a lot of missiles."_

"Copy that, Lead." The fighters were secondary, despite the danger. The main objectives were the AA guns.

Soon, the city came into sight. Smoke rose from several points in the East Sector, and quite a few on the west bank of the river. Major Powers said, _"Heads up, Flight: Odin says there's a Navy special forces team behind enemy lines. They've destroyed two of four guns, but they're reporting heavy enemy presence at the third gun, and they can't even get to the fourth. So we're taking out the fourth gun and the third one. The fourth one seems the most protected, so Two and I will go after it. Three, go after number three."_

"Copy that, going after number three," said Corbin. He nudged the stick and climbed. According to the map, the third gun was in the middle of a park or square, surrounded by tall buildings. The only way to get to it was by coming straight down, a dangerous maneuver. "Well, it's not like I haven't done anything more dangerous," he said to himself, remembering his harrowing flight between the skyscrapers of Asgard. The Shadowhawk climbed easily. When the altimeter hit five thousand feet, he flipped the fighter and dived straight down, the orange NAV mark guiding him. The Scorpion anti-tank missile that he was packing had a range of ten miles, but the AGM-324 had accuracy problems, and Corbin had only one missile. Finally, he closed within range. "Rifle One, Rifle One, missile away!"

000

The Chief was just about to order the attack, when something screamed through the air. Within a second the AT-AA was replaced by a ball of flame and twenty flying, ragdoll-ing storm troopers. "What the hell was that?" Fred asked.

"We'll find out later," the Master Chief said. "Right now, we—"

_"Excalibur to Blue Team, come in."_

The Chief paused before answering. "Blue Lead receiving, Excalibur."

_"Air Force is taking on the remaining gun. We tasked a Falcon to standby to retrieve you, but we lost contact with it."_

"We saw it, Excalibur. It was shot down. No survivors."

_"Blue Lead, please confirm: no survivors?"_

"Confirmed."

Someone sighed at the other end. _"Blue Lead, take your team and move to these coordinates for extraction."_

The Chief nodded as he received the coordinates. "Copy, Excalibur. We're Oscar Mike."

000

_"That's a kill, Ghost Three,"_ said Odin.

"Naturally," Corbin said to himself. A few blips appeared on his radar, and he informed the AWACS.

_"Those appear to be gunships, Ghost Three. Dragon Flight's handling them. Remain on standby until we find those enemy V-19s. Ghost Lead and Ghost Two are forming up on you now."_

Sure enough, the two other Shadowhawks slid into place. _"Not bad for a Peregrine driver," _Major Powers said. _"Let's look for those V-19s. If we can take those out, the Imps won't have any real air support."_

The problem, of course was finding them. Sure, the V-19s were older fighters, and sure the AWACS was supporting them and the F-118s had powerful scanners of their own, but the sky was a large place. They could've hidden in the clouds, or they might've been shot down already.

_"Listen up,"_ said Powers. _"Odin just reported in. Eagle Flight just reported that they were ambushed by gunships. They came from the coordinates where our bombers were shot down. That means that we're up against gunships."_

_"What?" _exclaimed Ghost Two. _"A flight of Peregrines were jumped by friggin' gunships?"_

Corbin remembered something. "Lead, Odin reported that my old squadron was engaging gunships north of the city."

_"Contact them."_

Corbin did just that. "Dragon Flight, this is Ghost Three. You read me?"

It was a while before there was a reply. _"Lead? Is that you?"_

"Dragon Two, status."

_"We're being swarmed by gunships, Lead. They must be the bastards that took out our bombers. There're at least fifty. We could use some help."_

"Ghost Lead, request permission to assist Dragon Flight."

Powers laughed. _"We're all going, Ghost Three."_

The Shadowhawks soared in formation northwards. They screamed over the City Bridge, where another critical battle was taking place.

000

The Army Rangers, combined with the ODSTs, made for an excellent joint defense. However, the units at the east end of the bridge were in danger of being overrun.

"Keep hitting them!" shouted Colonel Mark Healy, UNSC Army Rangers. "Funnel them here and we can halt 'em!"

Colonel Tarkov approached Healy. "Let's fall back, Colonel. We're running low on ammo, and they still have troopers to throw at us."

"No," said Healy. "Not until those charges are set. We have to hold until then."

"There's no time! Those giant walkers that your artillery guys saw are on the way here."

As if in answer, the ground started quaking. It had been quaking in the first place, what with all the explosions and artillery fire. But this was more regular, and a clear mechanical _stomp, stomp _sound could be heard. But Healy shook his head. "The engineers aren't done. I'm asking for any volunteers to help with a last stand. Just enough time for the engineers to set the charges. You should take your Marines and the rest of my men and set up another barricade at the other end. No telling when the Imps'll start crossing if the bridge doesn't blow."

"Last stands make for good stories, but it doesn't change the fact that you're dead. Colonel, you're much more useful alive."

Healy laughed. "Nice to hear that from a Marine. But this is the only way, unless your boys and the Spartans actually took out those AA guns."

Just then, Captain Coady and his Marines appeared. "We took out two guns, Colonel Tarkov! The Spartans said they'd take the other two!"

"How long ago was this?" Tarkov asked.

"About thirty minutes, sir," Coady panted. As he stood there, three fighters screamed over the bridge.

"Sir!" shouted a Ranger, running up to Healy. "Transmission from Excalibur! They said that we can call in air support!"

Healy seemed to lose a huge weight from his shoulder. "Contact Excalibur, Lieutenant. Tell them I want Berkuts to take out this bridge five minutes from now. Colonel Tarkov, I suggest we start moving our asses to the West Sector."

"Agreed, Colonel," Tarkov nodded.

The Rangers and the ODSTs began piling into troop transport Warthogs and Cougar IFVs. It took precious time, but no one wanted to be on the bridge when the A-24s started firing off their bridge-busters. With one minute left to the clock the only ones left were Healy, Tarkov, and their guards. Healy's guard, a Corporal named Jessica Calder, said, "Sirs, we should get moving." Without waiting for an answer, she jumped into a troop transport 'Hog and revved it up. The others piled in, and Calder stomped on the gas.

An ODST sitting in the back next to Tarkov looked back and said, "Holy Mother of God."

Tarkov looked as well, and Healy strained to look from his position in the passenger seat. "Jesus, that asshole's big," Healy breathed.

What looked like a giant steel camel stomped into view. Over twenty meters tall, the All-Terrain-Armored-Transport was as much a transport as it was an assault vehicle. As the soldiers watched, the chin-mounted cannons on the walker blasted apart a Scorpion tank stuck on the other side. The tankers had managed to fire off one sabot round before the laser cannons had torn them to pieces, but no visible sign of damage apart from a scorch mark could be seen on the AT-AT. Another AT-AT came into view, and the first set a huge metal foot on the bridge. The next step put it on top of the barricade, and the metal foot crushed the barricade like it was made of paper mache.

"Step on it, Army chick!" shouted one of the ODSTs. "Drive it like you stole it!"

"Shove it, jarhead!" Calder replied. She'd already put pedal to the metal, and the Warthog was weaving in between abandoned cars at speeds nearing a hundred miles per hour. The movement caught the attention of the lead walker's gunner, and suddenly a red bolt the size of a truck narrowly missed the 'Hog, blowing a hole in the bridge that Calder had to swerve to avoid. The 'Hog fishtailed, but the Ranger wrestled the LRV back into control. "Christ in a handbasket, can't they let up for thirty seconds?"

"Actually, we have less than ten seconds," Healy said, looking at his watch. "Make 'em count, soldier."

Calder did just that, pressing her boot firmly to the gas pedal. The passengers were so focused on the other end of the bridge and the AT-ATs that were firing at them that they didn't notice the nine A-24s soaring in form the south. No less than eighteen laser-guided bombs fell on the middle of the bridge, and another eighteen Scorpion missiles targeted the support columns. For a few fleeting seconds that seemed to stretch for hours, the bridge seemed to hold. Then the middle collapsed like a deck of cards, dropping rubble and abandoned vehicles into the river.

The AT-ATs halted. Tarkov knew what their drivers were thinking: their side of the bridge was holding for now, but there was no telling how long it would stay that way. The fleeing soldiers and Marines didn't stay long enough to watch the walkers turn around and stomp off the bridge, nor did they stay to see the rest of the bridge collapse into the river.

000

Colonel Veers was highly disappointed. The bridge had been essential to capturing the rest of the city, and now that wouldn't happen. Still, they had the East Sector, which might be enough for Bow's plan.

_"Good job, Colonel,"_ Marshal Commander Bow said. _"We're mopping up here. I'm going to contact the enemy commander."_

"What about the fleet, sir?"

_"That's Admiral Yularen's problem. Return to the rally point. There's no use for those walkers now."_

000

Admiral Henry Paulson considered his options. The Imperial force had already outnumbered him to begin with, and although he'd managed to take out a sizable chunk he's taken heavy losses himself. Now additional Imperial units were jumping in system. Now he was outnumbered three to one, and his ships were running low on ordnance.

"Orders, sir?" Captain Choi asked.

"Assume a defensive position at these coordinates," Paulson said. "Let's hope we can hold out until—"

"Sir!" said NAV. "New contacts, slipping in!"

"Show me," said Choi. What he saw made him smile. "Admiral, you gotta take a look at this."

Nearly three hundred ships appeared out of slipspace, all bearing the eagle and globe of the United Nations Space Command. There were top of the line battleships, cruisers, carriers, destroyers, frigates, corvettes, tenders, troop carriers.

Third Fleet had arrived.

000

Admiral Yularen had almost convinced himself that he could regain his losses when the UNSC Navy's Third Fleet dropped out of slipspace. There was no way that he could retake Harvest, not with barely ninety-five ships. But there were still the troops on the ground. The communications had been sporadic, but it seemed that they'd managed to capture half the capital city, along with more than a thousand enemy personnel.

"Admiral, incoming transmission from the enemy fleet," said Captain Mayar.

"Put them through."

A man in a Navy uniform appeared wearing four stars on his shoulders. _"This is Admiral Vasily Borodin, commanding officer of the United Nations Space Command Navy's Third Fleet. You are ordered to surrender immediately."_

Yularen replied, "I will withdraw if you allow my troops on the ground safe passage to my fleet."

_"You are not in a position to ask for such conditions, Admiral. We have several tens of thousands of troops with us. Your forces will be overwhelmed if you do not surrender unconditionally."_

"What about our withdrawal in exchange for our release of all our prisoners?"

Admiral Borodin seemed to consider it. _"Very well. Transmit the order to your forces to cease hostilities, and I will do the same."_

"Thank you, Admiral. Yularen out." Yularen sighed. "That's the end of that. Captain Mayar, transmit the order."

Mayar did so. Then she turned to Yularen and said, "Sir, I hope that I will serve under you for a long time." It was her way of saying, "I hope Lord Vader doesn't kill you."

Yularen smiled a tired smile. "That may be too much to hope for, Captain. Still, I have done my duty. I have no regrets, save that I did not succeed."

"Maybe there will be a next time, sir."

"Maybe, Captain."

000

"All units, this is Excalibur. Amber Light, Amber Light. Out." General Frank Warner turned off the mike as the cease-fire order went out. He turned to face everyone in the room. "People, we did it. We've won."

The command center burst into celebration. All over the city and the planet, UNSC forces celebrated. The Imperial troops were also glad that they no longer had to fight. They turned over their prisoners a few hours later after UNSC Army engineers created a temporary ribbon bridge to connect both sectors of Asgard. Imperial assault ships, closely watched by hundreds of UNSC Air Force and Navy fighters and bombers, landed to collect the tired storm troopers and remaining Imperial vehicles before lifting off to join their fleet. By the next day, the Imperial withdrawal from Harvest was complete, and the Imperial fleet had left the system.

The Fourth Battle of Harvest had claimed more than fifty thousand lives. Half of the capital city was in ruins, and many people found themselves homeless. Still, there were rays of hope. The Jedi Temple in Exile had been in the West Sector and had been largely untouched, and the Jedi who'd left returned to help with the rebuilding process. The citizens also set aside differences to help one another, and for once there was little to no hatred against the military forces. Indeed, the Marines, pilots and soldiers were treated as heroes.

The Spartans left the planet along with the ODSTs from the 105th for destinations unknown to anyone save those at ONI. All over the UN, war factories began coming back to life. The UNSC was going to war. It would be a conflict that would last for years and claim many lives, but for now, the UN celebrated its victory.

000

Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood examined the wreckage of hundreds of Imperial and UNSC ships. Civilian tugs had pushed most of the debris to a safe location, but much of this area of space would be a travel hazard for years.

"No apparent Imperial activity within our borders, sir," said the AI Norton, a 'smart' AI. He appeared as a human male wearing casual clothes, although he looked decidedly alien since he chose to broadcast himself in an orange light. "Their side is a different story. Seems like they're trying to gear up for round two, but since we took out a good chunk of their new Imperator destroyers they're relying on the older Venators. That should give us an easier time. Reports indicated that the Imperator can take quite a beating."

"I want a good target to hit first," Hood said. "What about the Imperial defenses at Ord Mantell?" He referred to the Empire's main naval base in their Outer Rim holdings. It was to the Empire what Altair IV was to the UNSC.

"_Cornelia_'s skipper regretfully informed us recently that the Empire's defenses at the Ord Mantell base are as strong as ever. Third Fleet wouldn't be able to take it on as it is now."

"What do you think, Norton?"

The AI's holographic avatar appeared to register surprise. "You're asking my opinion, sir?"

"You're supposed to be a 'smart' AI, Norton," said Hood with a smile. "Act like one."

"Well, if I had to choose, sir, I'd choose to hit multiple, weakly defended targets and one moderately defended one, all at once."

Hood lit a Sweet William cigar. Lighting one on a warship was technically against regs, but no one would say so to the highest ranking officer in the UNSC. "Surprise me."

"Eriadu seems to be a good target, as is Phelarion. Both are strong supporters of the Empire. Their fall would send quite a shock to the Empire, and our taking of Phelarion would deny the Empire a source of men who are quite willing to fight for the Empire. An easier target would be Alderaan. They don't support the Empire, although they don't have a military to fend off the Empire's advances. If we can take Alderaan, this Rebel Alliance that is rumored to exist can finally come out in the open, protected by us. That will allow a third party, friendly to us, to present another threat to the Empire. Naboo is another planet we can take. The Empire crushed the rebellion there, but there are still those who defy them."

"I like these options," Hood said. "I thought of some of these planets as well. But what about the moderately defended target you were referring to?"

Norton smiled. "Kamino."

Hood raised his eyebrows. "'Moderately defended'? That planet is _the_ main supplier of clones for the Imperial military. They have a strong fleet there."

"Strong, yes, but not large," Norton said. "Third Fleet can handle Kamino, while Fourth Fleet can handle the others. If you wish to strike even wider, use assets from Second Fleet and the Home Fleet to raid other Imperial worlds."

"Sounds good. Let's plan it out."

000END000


End file.
